A Moonlit Night
by Katerina Riley
Summary: In which Arthur discovers that, despite his teasing, Merlin isn't a girl and a certain chambermaid isn't entirely human. All this happens because villagers are claiming that something evil is living in their lake. Arthur's not sure what surprises him more: a monster made of water or the fact that Merlin has a girl. And then a tail. And...magic? MERMAN!MERLIN (ch7) NOT crack/slash
1. Chapter 1

****The girl's name is Syra, pronounced: Si (like the Spanish way of saying "yes") and rah (rolling the 'r' and saying the –ah like at the end of Sarah). Altogether, it's Si-rah.** **

**This story isn't only about Merlin/Syra, though that relationship is dominate. (However, there is also Arwen.) There's a A BIT OF SEX at the end of this chapter, but since it's not explicit, I see no reason to have this be anything but rated T. If anyone feels that this gets too mature as the chapters continue (which I highly doubt), feel free to tell me and I'll change it if the reasoning is valid enough. **

**I'm not entirely sure when this takes place. Definitely season 5 is thrown out, but it's after Arthur and Gwen are married. So… After season 4, before season 5? Yeah, that sounds good. So Arthur is 27 and Merlin is 24 in this.**

**This will be a reveal story!**** Hope you all enjoy :)**

**The image of her jaw that I'm trying to describe can be found on my profile.**

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_A Moonlit Night _

The young warlock was facing the lake, his pale skin seemingly glowing in the moonlight. He was watching the waters with such intensity that had it not been for his smile, one would think him to be scared or angry. Cool water lapped at both his bare feet and the rock he was currently standing on while a light breeze danced across his skin, causing the man to shiver ever so slightly. All he had on was plain, brown trousers, rolled up to the knee. On the shore, a blue peasant's shirt was hanging loosely across a tree branch with a pair of worn-out boots placed under. Something red was tied to the tree branch. The man glanced behind him, scouring the shoreline for any sign of life. The waves continued undulating, occasionally covering the rocks which formed a makeshift path between the shoreline and the place in which the man was standing, about a fourth of the way to the center of the lake.

Abrupt laughter caused the man to nearly slip off the already-wet rock. The sound was sharp and sweet, clear as crystal yet confusing; the cachinnation surrounded the man –overpowering his whispered _shite _form his almost-slip– making him unable to decipher where exactly the person was.

"If you come into the water, you'll be warmer."

Her voice sounded soft and trusting as she sang her promise out to the man. It flowed over him like the finest silk. An overwhelming desire to oblige her wish almost overpowered the all-powerful warlock. However, he knew the voice and he knew its owner, and he wasn't going fall for her seduction. Not this night.

"Oh no you don't!" The man called out sternly. "You are not going to trick me like that again. I'm staying right up here, _out _of the water."

"Trick you?" A head emerged from the center of the lake, but her voice was as audible as if she were whispering in his ear. "Now why would I want to trick you?" the girl asked, her voice betraying the fact that she knew exactly why she would trick the warlock into the water. She sounded like she would do anything to get the man to enter the lake's beckoning waves.

"You know why, Syra." The man raised an eyebrow, knowing full-well the girl could see his expression.

The head bobbed up and down before disappearing under the surface, reappearing in front of the man seconds later. A young woman of about twenty or twenty-one emerged from the dark waters. Syra. She was pouting; her long, wet ebony hair floated around her, fanning out on the water's surface only added to her innocent effect. The warlock avoided looking directly into Syra's eyes. They were the complete opposite of his own –her irises were so dark they were nearly as black as her pupils– but the man knew he could get lost in them nonetheless. He knew if he looked into Syra's eyes for too long, his resolve would crumble and he'd lower his body into the waters.

(He actually really wanted to get in with her, he really did, but they were on a tight schedule.)

Syra pushed herself up onto a rock a few feet away from the warlock. She put all her weight onto her hands, knowing full-well how it emphasized her breasts. The man studied her, carefully avoiding her chest area. He loved the way she looked, especially in this form. Her skin was like porcelain – she was the only person in the whole kingdom to have skin paler than the warlock's own flesh. Her lips were full and red, always tempting. Syra's face was delicate and innocent; her eyes were always wide, as if she were constantly surprised or in awe. She was beautiful, and to the warlock, she looked perfect.

Of course, Syra wasn't perfect; nothing is ever perfect. There was one tiny flaw that presented itself whenever Syra opened her mouth a little too widely. Her tiny teeth would elongate, growing into a row of sharp, jagged daggers, strong enough to tear the flesh and bone of animals. As Syra's mandible unhinged, her face would become marred; the skin was stretched so tightly across her cheeks, it ripped, only held together by bits of ligaments. Other than that, she was practically perfect. Flawless. She's the perfect lure; always seeming so innocent. However, Syra is far from innocent; she's a predator.

Syra is a siren.

(Well, sort of.)

It was even more obvious when she was in the water. Syra's pupils changed from round to diamond-shaped. The more prominent clue to Syra's inhumanity would be her tail. Whenever water –salt, fresh, or just plain, pure water– touched her skin, Syra would endure a painful process where her legs would fuse together from just above her hipbones down all the way to her toes. That whole section of her body would undergo an enormous molecular change until the human anatomy would become drastically different. (However, after many years –Syra would never say exactly _how_ many years– of transforming, the siren can now shift without so much as a gasp. That didn't mean it still didn't hurt, but she figured out how to ignore and divert the pain.)

The warlock loved watching Syra's tail move. It was long, longer that her legs, and silver, practically camouflaged in the midnight waters. Her tail functioned like that of an octopus tentacle –the man remembered seeing a few octopi from the traveling merchant that passed through Camelot during his first few months there– bending and twisting in any direction Syra choose. At the end of the tail was a flipper. According to Syra, it helped her glide though water at incredible speeds with just a tiny flick of her powerful tail. The flipper was similar to that of a fan that the Ladies of nobility would use as flirtation devices; however, Syra's tail was spikier at the end rather than rounded, and any flirtation would be used with her upper body, not her lower. On her tail were also tiny fins, much like what a regular fish would have. A thin, silver membrane covered her breasts, and only just barely at that. The rest of Syra was bare, and that stirred a lustful want within the man. He tried to swallow, reigning in the raging desire.

Syra wasn't just a siren. No, had she only been a siren, she and the warlock would never have met – or at least, never have met in the circumstances that they did. The fact was, Syra had been cursed by a sorceress (for reasons still frustratingly unknown to the warlock) to have a human form, and, much to Syra's infuriation, she could no longer feast on human flesh without feeling disastrously ill.

The warlock was not-so-secretly very grateful for that part of the curse.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Syra said softly. She licked her red lips and batted her eyelashes in a seductive manner, one that could always work on the warlock. It almost did. Almost.

"We can't stay out here too long," he insisted, avoiding her hypnotizing eyes just in time. It was more difficult to ignore the throbbing in his pants. "We need to get back to the castle before anyone notices we're gone."

"But it's the middle of the night!" Syra protested. "No one is going to miss us."

The man was able to counter her argument easily. "It _is _the middle of the night, but the villager came to us shortly before sun down. Arthur still might take the knights out to the lake –to _this_ lake– to see if he was right about-"

"The village is on the _other _side of the lake," Syra mumbled tartly. "There's no reason for them to come over here. The lake is nearly a mile wide, you know."

"But if there's some sort of creature here, Arthur might take the time to walk around to the other side –_this _side– to see if it's actually in the lake or not." The man paused. "…Is it?" he asked Syra. "Is there some sort of creature here?"

Sighing, Syra sank down until the lake lapped at her chin since it was apparent the man wouldn't take her bait. She muttered again that there was no reason to worry since they were alone, so they could do anything they wanted.

If there was one thing the warlock could change about Syra –not that he would actually tell her– it would be her persistent insistence to be intimate at nearly every second of every day. Not that he really minded all the time of course because he _was _a man after all and it really was very, _very_ pleasant, but there comes a point when one would rather go for walks or riding or simply talk to each other rather than have constant amazing, fulfilling, intense sex with the love of their lives.

(Actually, that's very much a lie. The reality is that the warlock really hates getting caught in extremely compromising positions by the knights, citizens, and nobles of Camelot. One day, it might be the King himself who finds them and that is not an embarrassment he never wants to experience. Ever.)

Finally Syra answered. "Yes."

"What?" For a moment, the warlock had forgotten the subject of their discussion, his mind straying as he had looked upon the girl, but then, as quickly as he had forgotten, he remembered. "What?!" The man looked around nervously, wondering where exactly the creature was and how safe he and Syra were, especially Syra since she's actually _in_ the water and-

"But I don't know what it is," Syra continued, interrupting the man's nervous mind-rambles. "Whatever it is, I think it can sense me, just like I can sense it. It's staying clear away from me."

"Great," the man groaned. "That's just great. Another thing to worry about."

"Merlin?"

That was not Syra's voice. Yet it sounded familiar. Too familiar. Merlin would always be able to recognize that voice. (He saw Syra submerge fully under the water, most likely swimming as far away as she can so she wouldn't be caught. Too bad Merlin couldn't do the same.) He turned around quickly, to face the man who called his name, but the rocks were too wet and Merlin found himself slipping. With a yelp, he fell into the lake's chilly waters. There was a mind-numbing cold –why couldn't Syra have stayed? she could've warmed up the waters– but then, as the bubbles cleared away, something else made itself known.

A pulse.

No, more like a presence.

_Syra was right, _Merlin realized. There was something in this lake. It definitely had magical origins (being the one and only warlock certainly had its perks), but was it a creature of the Old Religion, or did someone cast a spell? Curse the village? Enchant the water? Hex some poor sea creature? What was it?

The warlock decided to stay under –_just a bit longer, _he told himself– to see if he could identify it, or maybe even communicate with it. A few seconds passed, when a sudden shift occurred. As Merlin felt Syra leave the water (most likely to dry herself off), he also felt the presence lurch forward, rushing toward him. He might not know what it was, but Merlin's had far too many experiences with creature's trying to kill him to misunderstand what this presence's intent was.

Merlin tried to move, tried to reach the surface, but he found he was petrified. Confusion (and a small amount of fear) rose up within the warlock. He's never been frightened like this before. Just a second ago, he'd been able to move, but now his body was frozen. Merlin's mind raced, trying to understand what was going on. From the back of his mind, he realized he heard music – which had to have been impossible because he was _underwater_, but apparently that didn't matter because someone was definitely singing. As he started to realize that he was truly trapped, that the voice was the cause of his immobility, that the presence was about to engulf him, that he was about to…to…have gods-only-know be done to him, just as all that manifested in his mind, Merlin felt two pairs of strong hands wrap around his forearms, yanking him upward, towards the surface.

It was a relief to be able to breathe again.

x~X~x

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled as he saw his manservant fall backwards into the lake. The lake which contained a supposed monster. He didn't resurfaced. Oh gods… Did Merlin even know how to swim?

Feeling his knights close at his heels, Arthur surged forward, hoping that the creature –_if _it was real that is– didn't get to Merlin first. (He also hoped his friend wouldn't crack his skull. Knowing his clumsy friend, it was an equally-freighting probability.)

Just what was Merlin doing out here anyways? No shirt, no shoes; his pants rolled to his knees. _What was Merlin doing_? Was he trying to discover the lake creature's existence? Under his breath, Arthur cursed the idiot. He had been there! He heard the man from the village! If there really _was_ something in this lake, Arthur was going to have a long discussion with his manservant about what _listening _is and how he needs to acquire an important ability called _common sense_. Even if Merlin wanted to investigate the monster, he shouldn't have done it alone for gods' sake! Arthur would've let him come had he only asked – if only because Merlin was a stubborn man and wouldn't take "No" for an answer. However, since Merlin was a complete _dollophead_, he decided to come alone to explore a lake that possibly is the home to some monster and to top it all off, it was well-past midnight, but still late enough to be dark, on a full moon. Bad things _always _tend to happen during a full moon (even if Arthur had no idea as to _why_ they happened on a full moon).

Yes, Arthur was going to have strong words with his idiot friend that may or may not involve shaking some sense into him. Or throwing enough goblets to _knock _common sense into him. (…Or is that the reason he doesn't have any?)

Reaching the rock path first, Arthur and Gwaine scrambled across, trying to reach Merlin in time without falling into the lake themselves.

Arthur remembered his nursemaid Helena taking him out to this lake during his younger years. This was where he learned to skip rocks and swim (again, Arthur wondered desperately whether or not Merlin knew), and it had always amazed him to see the stone path nature formed. It wasn't a perfect bridge, but there were clusters of rocks here and there, close enough to be able to jump across, to quite a distance into the lake's center, which was what Arthur and Gwaine were doing at that moment; jumping from rock to rock, heading toward the end of the path, where Merlin had slipped.

Without even looking at each other, Arthur and Gwaine squatted down (there wasn't enough room for two grown men to kneel on the rock they were perched on), reached into the water, and pulled out a completely drenched manservant. Using their strength, and the added bonus of adrenalin, the two were able to pull Merlin straight to his feet. Both knights helped steady the tittering and coughing man standing between them.

Arthur, still gripping Merlin's forearm, glanced down at the spot where his friend had just previously been. For a split second, Arthur could've sworn he saw a face glaring at him, but then he blinked at the face was gone. The king's attention was forced away from the water as Merlin's knees began to buckle, causing him to fall backward yet again.

Carefully, Gwaine and Arthur maneuvered back toward the shore whilst keeping Merlin on his feet, which was mainly Arthur's job since he was last in their three-person line. While they were jumping from rock to rock, Merlin managed to stay relatively steady on his feet, but as soon as the trio reached the shore, the manservant collapsed onto his hands and knees. Leon draped a blanket around his trembling shoulders; Gwaine kneeled in front of his friend and placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder. Secretly, Arthur wished he could share in that open affection for his friends –even for his _wife_– in front of others without hearing his father's voice whispering in his ears about how public displays of emotion, other than anger, are signs of weakness, and if he must show his feelings, it shouldn't be to someone as pitiful as a servant. Arthur really wished he could ignore that voice, but he's heard it for far too long and if he just suddenly stopped, it would be too much. That was why he was kneeling behind Merlin, not offering a reassuring touch, but still using his eyes to detect any sort of injury his friend might have sustained.

"Something," Merlin stammered, "Something was in there…"

…Perhaps Arthur _hadn't_ imagined the face after all. It wasn't a very comforting thought. Arthur watched as Merlin slowly sat back on his shins, wrapping the blanket around him tighter.

"Merlin, mate," Gwaine began, squeezing his shoulder, "What are you doing out here?"

The pale face turned red very quickly, as Merlin swallowed nervously and cast his gaze on anything other than Gwaine (and Arthur and the other knights).

"Oh. Well… Um…"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Spit it out, Merlin." The king got to his feet and went to stand in front of his (thankfully unharmed) manservant, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I… I was… Going for a midnight swim," Merlin said in a voice that sounded much more like a question than a statement. His eyes kept glancing to one particular are of the forest, but when Arthur looked, nothing was there, only Merlin's boots and neckerchief. He turned back to Merlin, eyebrows arched.

"Oh, you were going for a swim were you?" Arthur asked in his –as Merlin would put it– 'prat' voice with a touch of _thank-gods-you're-all-right_ and a pinch of _how-can-you-be-so-stupid?_

Merlin nodded.

"_Mer_lin, you were there, weren't you? When the man came telling us about the lake monster?"

"I, um, believe so…sire."

"Then _why _are you here?" the king asked, exasperated.

"Uh… I thought it was a different lake?"

Arthur gave Merlin a face. It said "Merlin, what _am _I going to do with you?"

Gwaine, on the other hand, laughed. "Merlin, my friend, you are a rubbish liar."

The man didn't answer, but he did shiver as a breeze blew past.

Noticing his servant's discomfort, Arthur sighed and said, "Alright knights, we might as well head back."

"Head back?" Rion, a younger knight, echoed in confusion. "But we just got here."

"All we were going to do was confirm the creature's existence," the king explained wearily. It was both a blessing and a curse that the village was the closest one to Camelot. "And since Merlin's already done that," Arthur gave a sharp look to his servant, who tried, and failed, to smile innocently, "We might as well go home and get a good night's sleep."

The knights nodded, it had been a long day and they were ready to go to their beds. Without any hint of complaint or protest, they began to veer their weary bodies back to their horses. If Arthur wanted to go back home, where all their warm, comfortable beds lie in wait for them, who were they to argue with their King? They also knew that their King had his own reasons for wanting to return; the reason's name was _Gwen_.

"Actually…" After a moment's thought, Arthur turned to two of his knights. "Leon and Rion?" Rion stood at rigid attention while Leon simply regarded his king with respectful eyes. "You two stay here and keep an eye out for anything, the rest of us will return around noon," Arthur commanded. _Hopefully with a better idea of what to do, _he added silently to himself.

Catching his King's eye, Leon nodded in tacit understanding. "I shall try to uncover anything else about this beast while we wait, sire," he promised. Arthur was always thankful for Leon's perceptiveness regarding whatever his King was thinking at the time, always knowing what needed to be done without being ever told.

Satisfied that the problem was (somewhat) resolved for the time being, the King turned his attention back to his knights. He knew he was forgetting something… What was it? Oh, that's right. "Merlin?"

"Hmm?" The servant looked up at Arthur with a guilty expression the king tried to ignore.

"Find your shirt and head back to the castle." The _'we _will _talk later' _went unsaid.

With a nod from their King, the knights walked back to their horses; two riding toward the village, the other four heading back to the castle. Only Gwaine and Arthur remained in the clearing with Merlin, a man both the knights considered a dear friend – though only one would admit to it aloud.

Arthur waited by his horse, wondering what the rugged knight was up to.

"A swim, eh?" Gwaine asked his friend, soft enough so Arthur couldn't hear. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made Merlin feel a bit nervous; he had a horrible feeling where his friend was going to take this conversation. "This swim… You weren't _really _alone, were you Merlin?" Gwaine asked, fully knowing what the answer was.

In answer, Merlin blushed.

Laughing, Gwaine clapped his hand on Merlin's bare shoulder. "I knew it!" Winking, Gwaine said, "Hope my advice helped, mate."

"I- uh, it did. I think. Maybe," Merlin stuttered, avoiding his friend's gaze.

Gwaine stood up, trying to keep his laughter inside of him. "Just be firm Merlin. You're the man; you make the decisions."

"But it's just so hard," Merlin whined. He continued looking stubbornly at the ground. "Whenever she looks at me I just want to do what she says."

"I know exactly what you mean, mate," Gwaine sighed, thinking of a certain barmaid with curly brown hair and soft, warm lips and a bodice that- "Don't worry; you'll get the hang of it. Eventually."

Merlin huffed. "_Eventually. _Thanks for that bout of confidence." He adjusted the blanket around himself again, trying to keep the cold air out.

A loud and pointed _AHEM _from Arthur signaled that it was time for the knight to be leaving. Waving at his King, Gwaine looked at his friend one last time. "You really don't have to worry, mate. She's only got eyes for you. Trust me." He ruffled Merlin's hair –the man protested with an indignant '_Hey!_' and swatting his friend's hand away– before jogging back toward his horse. As he mounted, Merlin abruptly stood up.

"What do you mean 'trust me'? Gwaine? _Gwaine_! Answer me!"

But the knight's only answer was silence; whether it was because he hadn't heard or he simply wanted to pester the warlock, Merlin didn't know.

Gwaine's reply to Arthur's confused look was, "It's a long story mate. One involving taverns and barmaids and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to hear it."

Arthur didn't answer. After Gwaine's last "long story" involving a tavern and a barmaid, Arthur was positive he didn't want to hear this one. (Really, it would only have one of three endings: Gwaine got into yet another bar fight , Gwaine got laid again, or Gwaine got in a bar fight andgot laid. So really, Arthur already knew how the story could end and he wasn't in the mood to hear it.)

x~X~x

Merlin watched as his two friends rode off towards the castle. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't seething. _Trust me. _What did that mean? Had Gwaine tried to make a move on Syra? _His _Syra? It would be just like Gwaine to go after the prettiest girl in Camelot.

"Finally. I thought they'd _never _leave."

Merlin turned around to find his seething completely evaporated.

Syra was wearing his blue shirt. Syra was _only _wearing his blue shirt.

The world seemed to freeze as Merlin's eyes raked over Syra's body. She was shorter than Merlin, so the shirt seemed more like a dress – a very _short _dress, mind you. She was dry and her hair fell completely straight, falling over her shoulders. He longed to brush that ebony hair out of her eyes.

Quickly, Merlin turned away. "We should leave now," he mumbled, his face burning with embarrassment and lust.

A cool hand touched his hot cheek, turning his head to face the opposite direction. Once again, Merlin found himself staring into Syra's dark, doe eyes.

"You're so cute when you're embarrassed," Syra murmured. Bringing his face closer to her own, she began placing light kisses along his jawline.

Merlin made a very intelligent response that sounded something like, "Uh-huh…"

Syra giggled. "Remember a few weeks ago? When Gwaine and that tavern girl walked in, and we were doing this…"

Somehow, Syra managed to bring her lips to Merlin's while at the same time, leading them down to the ground. She was lying on her back, legs wrapped around Merlin's waist, yet somehow, Merlin knew she was the one in charge, even if he was on top. They were kissing and touching and the next thing Merlin knew was that it as morning and he was naked.

Groaning in frustration, Merlin glanced sideways at the peacefully sleeping, also naked, Syra snuggled in his arms. He shook his head.

'_Stand your ground, Merlin, mate! You're the man! You only sleep together when _you _want to!' _

If he went according to Gwaine's definition, Merlin was sure that the 'man' in this relationship was certainly _not _him. He really needs to get better advice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter 2! I know this doesn't seem like it has a plot, but trust me, as long as this story goes like I plan, it should most definitely have a plot. (I hope the story goes in the direction I need it too. These things tend to have a mind of their own, you know.) **

**Okay, so I'm not exactly sure how it works, but I noticed that even when Arthur and Gwen were **_**married**_**, he and his wife didn't share a bed. Me being the genius that I am (and that people is what I like to call **_sarcasm_**) decided that what must've happened was that Arthur and Gwen still had separate bedrooms, but once a week (or month or something) got to 'share' a bed. I think that's how it worked. Or at least, how it worked in the **_**Merlin **_**TV show. It's the only thing that makes sense. So if that's wrong, I'm sorry, but I'm sticking with canon, and since the show never really specified what happened, I made it up in accordance with what would make sense. Thanks for understanding! :) **

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday; it was kind of a blur and I didn't realize until around midnight and by then I was just too tired to care. But it's here now! **

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Merlin burst through the doors of the King's chambers.

After realizing they only had a few hours to get back to the castle, Merlin had woken Syra by shaking her and shouting her name. She hadn't appreciated such a rude wake-up, but she grudgingly agreed that it had been necessary since they would both have been late in attending their duties. Also, Syra could never get up on time – she wasn't a morning person in the slightest. Merlin had hastily pulled his clothes on, helped Syra into her dress (why do those things have to be so damned complicated?), and together they ran all the way from the lake to the castle, and if Merlin had used a bit –okay, a _lot_– of his magic to help them, well, who was there to care? Not Syra and certainly not himself.

Somehow (read: through the use of lots and lots of magic), the undercover-warlock managed to make it in time, with breakfast in one hand and fresh laundry in the other, to wake the king. He carefully placed the tray on the royal table, put the fresh laundry away, pulled back the royal curtains, and…

Wait, where was the royal prat himself?

As if on cue, Arthur strutted into his room, a dazed smile on his face. His light-hearted smile turned into a light-hearted smirk as he caught sight of his manservant. "Hello Merlin. Forgot I was sharing with Gwen last night?"

The manservant was about ready to throw the table. Or just fall asleep on it; he wasn't sure which would be more enjoyable.

How on earth did he forget _that_? He'd been so excited, not having to wake up Arthur in the early mornings since it was Arthur and Gwen's night to be together. Oh, that's right. Some villager had to ruin it by claiming a murderous creature lived in one of Camelot's lakes and Merlin, being Emrys and all, had felt obligated to check out the man's exaggerated proclaims. Even though the man turned out to be right, that wasn't the point of Merlin's frustration. The point was he _forgot_. Instead of standing in Arthur chambers like a complete dollophead, the warlock could've stayed with Syra for a few more minutes before calming wondering back into the city and still be on time to leave with the knights on time.

Groaning, Merlin slid into the King's chair. Out of spite for Arthur, annoyance at himself, and just plain hunger, the manservant began munching on the royal food.

Arthur only rolled his eyes, but then he did a double-take. "Merlin, why do you have leaves in your hair?"

"What?" Simultaneously, Merlin turned beet-red and combed his fingers through his hair. Yes, he definitely took a part of the forest with his back to Camelot. Thinking quickly, Merlin blurted the first thing that came to his mind. "I need to talk to Gwaine!" Well, it wasn't a complete lie.

Blinking, Arthur observed his friend. "And how, exactly, does that answer my question?"

"It doesn't." Merlin stuffed the rest of the sausages into his mouth. After he chewed and swallowed, he said hastily, "I just need to talk with him."

"Nice try," Arthur said, grabbing Merlin's arm as he tried to flee the King's room. "We still have yet to have that talk about last night."

"Ah, yes. Speaking of last night, shouldn't we be going back to the lake? You told Leon you'd be there in the morning."

"Don't change the subject!" Arthur scolded.

Merlin opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the chamber door opened gracefully, revealing Queen Guinevere and all her glory. Trailing behind her was Syra. Her hair was in a tidy side-braid without even a hint of leaves or twigs in it. Her dress was in pristine condition as well. Staring at her, Merlin idly wondered how she did it – how _any _girl managed to do it. The manservant looked like a down-right mess, while the maidservant was the picture-perfect image of neatness. Suddenly realizing Gwen was speaking, Merlin only managed to catch the last part of the conversation.

"…stop it before it's too late."

"Exactly!" Merlin exclaimed, hoping he was right on Gwen's subject matter. "I was just telling Arthur here we needed to go back to the village straight away. The sooner the better!"

Gwen nodded approvingly at her friend, while Arthur simply glared.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, _Mer_lin. Unfortunately, you and my wife are right. I'll get the men, you gather the supplies. Meet me downstairs in half an hour." Arthur held up a finger in front of his friend's face. "Half an hour Merlin. Don't be late."

"Of course, _sire_," Merlin said, bowing mockingly. He couldn't see Arthur's face, but he knew there was a suppressed grin on it. Of course, it was gone once he straightened up again.

"Syra dear," Gwen turned to her maidservant, "Why don't you help Merlin? It'll quicken the process and," she leaned in closer, whispering something inaudible. Both girls were grinning after Gwen pulled away.

Shaking his head, Arthur offered his arm to his wife, "You girls and your secrets."

Guinevere took the outstretched arm, smiling happily. "But you really don't want to know, do you, Arthur?"

Her husband laughed. "No, I really don't." Turning around, he called out, "Don't forget, Merlin! Half an hour!"

x~X~x

"That should be the last of it," Syra said, looking at the bags filled with clothing, food, and weapons. "Is there anything else you usually take?"

Merlin shook his head. "No, I think this will be good. I should head down to the stables now…" Wringing his hands together, the warlock cast yet another glance at his siren.

Sighing, Syra turned to face the man, "Merlin, what is it? You've been looking at me for the past twenty minutes."

As Merlin deliberated what to do, he made a series of faces. Finally, he blurted, "What did Gwen whisper in your ear?"

Taken aback, Syra blinked and cocked her head inquisitively. "Why does that matter?"

"It's just… You got this look. In your eyes. And it reminded me of… You know, when we… What did she tell you?"

"Well, she just told me that the quicker we got this done, the more time we'd have for a little fun," Syra said matter-of-factly.

Merlin blanched. "Wh-what? Does she…know? About us?"

"Of curse she knows. I tell her everything."

"Everything?" Merlin echoed in horror.

"Of course." Syra wetted her lips. "Merlin, is something wrong? Was I not supposed to do that?"

"Well normally… That doesn't usually… You tell her _everything_?" The manservant was still trying to process what exactly _everything_ entitled too. There were certain things he didn't want Gwen knowing, and in this case, the 'certain things' had absolutely nothing to do with his magic.

"Well not your magic. Or the fact that I used to be a flesh-eating monster."

"But…everything else?"

"Yes …" Biting her lip, Syra took a tentative step forward. "It's just… I didn't know. Anything really. I'd never done anything like that before and the first time… Well, it scared me. When I was a full-blooded siren, I never had feelings like that. Gwen was one of the only girls nice to me, and back then she hadn't been Queen. So I asked her. We've been talking ever since."

Merlin remembered that night. The very first night. Uther had still been king.

Merlin and Syra had been yelling…again. Syra kept demanding Merlin release her from the curse since he was the only one with enough power to do it, while Merlin himself had been refuting her, saying she'd only kill more innocent lives. Funny how at one moment they had hated each other, and the next, they couldn't get their hands off the other. Merlin's not exactly sure who made the first move –he thinks it might've been him– but he does know that that was only the first night in a long, series of nights.

After that, Syra stopped asking for her curse to be lifted. At first, Merlin thought it wouldn't last. They were just two creatures of the Old Religion who happened to fancy each other, but it would soon end. Only, it didn't. It grew, in fact. Now, Merlin's almost positive he loves her. Loves Syra. Which is crazy since she's a man-eating monster… A man-eating monster, who also happens to love flowers and the smell of freshly baked bread, loves talking about nothing in particular and loves outlining Merlin's chest. Even when Merlin talks about Freya, his first love, she doesn't seem to care in the slightest! (This even after Syra experienced her first bout of jealousy a few years back.) She might be a monster, but she's also human.

"So when you say _everything_, do you really mean…?"

"Yes." Syra nodded enthusiastically. "Sometimes, she even tells me stuff."

He knew he was going to regret this, but he had to ask. "What kind of stuff?"

"Oh all sorts!" Syra jumped on Arthur's bed, messing up the sheets that Merlin just tucked in. Patting a seat next to her, Syra continued talking as Merlin sat down. "She tells me her day and I tell her mine, she explains certain things to me, though after so many years, she hasn't really needed too. I understand a lot more now than I did then. Like how people have 'personal spaces' and I can't get too close. Except for you of course," Syra winked. "Oh! She was the one who taught me how to wink. It's loads of fun."

Merlin watched enraptured, as Syra's face brightened. He could now understand why Arthur could barely take his eyes off Gwen, even when they had to hide their relationship. Whenever Syra talked about something she loved, her eyes would practically shine with excitement. Merlin didn't doubt that Arthur experienced the same wonder when talking with Gwen.

"In the beginning," Syra continued, "She told me about what exactly happened on the first night, and what each part of the body means and how it reacts to certain things. I've learned so much from Gwen, but that's not the juicy part."

By this time, Syra was leaning against Merlin's arm with her head on his shoulder. She traced non-existent patterns on his thigh.

"Oh?" Merlin asked, watching her finger.

"See I tell her what we do, she tells me what they do."

"What they… _What_?"

Syra hummed and brought her lips to Merlin's neck, only to pout when Merlin pulled away.

"When you say that, do you mean…" Merlin shook his head, as if clearing his mind. He tried again. "So you and Gwen…discuss…your…love lives?" Merlin asked, already knowing the answer, but hoping he had been wrong. Unfortunately, he hadn't.

"Yes." Syra frowned, "Is that a bad thing?"

It was Merlin's turn to frown. "I'm… I'm not sure, actually," the warlock admitted. "Girls generally discuss things that guys… Well, that guys don't care to talk about."

"Gwen and I talk about everything," Syra explained. She went back to tracing designs onto Merlin's body, but this time, it was on his collarbone where she removed his neckerchief. (When had she done that?)

"You, Arthur, ourselves, the kingdom, myths, other girls. Sometimes, other guys." Grinning, Syra laughed, "We talk _a lot_."

Merlin couldn't help but laugh too. "We talk quite often too."

"Yes," Syra agreed, "But I don't want to talk right now."

Grinning, Merlin met Syra's sly smile with his own mischievous eyes. He had completely forgotten about the lake monster and needing to be in the stables. "Then what _do _you want to do?"

Syra giggled and swung her leg so she was straddling Merlin's hips. "Oh I can think of plenty of things…" She leaned in, catching Merlin's lips while the manservant used his skilled fingers to begin unlacing her dress. They didn't notice the door opening until a surprised voice called out:

"Merlin, where are- _Merlin_!?"

x~X~x

The manservant scrambled away from Syra, who looked a little more than annoyed at their interruption.

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted. "I- You- We're- This isn't what it looks like!"

The King, who still stood shocked in the doorway, unfroze at the comment and raised an eyebrow. His lips twitched as he tried not to laugh. "Oh really?"

"Well…"

Huffing out her irritation, Syra slid off the King's bed. "Well I suppose I should go attend Gwen now." She looked at her King, her face hiding none of her frustration and anger. Pointedly, she turned to Merlin, gave him a tongue-twirling kiss, said a stiff, "Goodbye," and left the chambers, her shoulders square and her eyes locked straight ahead.

As she left, Arthur closed the door behind her and turned to face his speechless and wide-eyed friend.

"So… Not what it looks like?" he asked slyly.

Merlin's intelligent and sarcastic reply went somewhere along the lines of: "Uh… "

The look on his manservant's face caused Arthur to laugh. He leaned against the wall, grinning mercilessly. "Merlin, you were with a woman."

"Um, yes…" Merlin said, his face slowly emerging from daydream-expression to one more in touch with reality.

"A woman," the King emphasized, his grin getting broader by the second.

"Yes…?" Merlin said in a 'what are you getting at' tone.

Arthur shook his head disbelievingly, but a grin was still plastered on his face. "I don't know whether to be happy for you or completely scarred for life."

"I take offense to the last retort," Merlin grumbled, scrunching up his eyebrows and pouting his lips. He looked the spitting image of a little kid, and Arthur just had to laugh again because of it.

"And to think, I called you 'girl' just the other day."

"Yeah, and I take offense to that too," the warlock grumbled.

"She's not bad," Arthur mused. "But a girl like that, you'd better watch her back Merlin."

"Hey!"

The look that was sent Arthur's way would've sent shivers down his spine had it not been Merlin being the one glaring. Still, Arthur couldn't deny the fact that apparently Merlin was quite possessive –a bit scarily so– of those he liked. (Vaguely, Arthur wondered if he fell under that same category in Merlin's eyes; they had been friends for many years and, even if he denies it, Arthur considers Merlin his best friend, and he will deny every saying that.)

Putting up his hands in an 'I surrender' gesture, Arthur said, "I only meant that she's very pretty and a lot of guys might try to court her, so you should just be weary of that."

"Keeping her isn't the problem," Merlin said, and though his tone was a bit icy, his eyes were soft. "It's getting her to leave me alone."

"No wonder you wanted to talk to Gwaine."

"Mhm- What?" Merlin looked at Arthur, startled.

"Well, that generally is his area, so to speak. Ladies." Arthur suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "You said earlier you wanted to talk to Gwaine…"

"Oh. Right." Merlin gnawed on the inside of his lip, his eyes downcast. "It's just… Well his advice hasn't exactly…worked…"

"Erm… What…was it?"

The conversation had suddenly taken an abrupt turn. Arthur was talking about feelings. Feelings! _And_ he was offering Merlin advice; advice that would (most definitely) deal with emotions, and what are emotions? Feelings! That was what girls chatted incessantly about, _not_ grown men. It was obvious that Merlin was getting uncomfortable, so when his wife walked in, looking slightly worried, Arthur quickly changed the subject, which he could see that Merlin was slightly relieved about.

"Ah, Guinevere. How are you?"

"What are you two still doing here?" Gwen asked, frowning and completely ignoring her husband's question. "The knights have been waiting for you for quite a bit now."

"What? Oh!" Arthur had completely forgotten about the mission he was on. "Right, we must go to the village. Come Merlin!"

The two friends quickly speed away, leaving a confused Queen, who, after a moment, shrugged and smiled fondly after her boys.


	3. Chapter 3

**Now this is where the action takes place! :) Hope everyone is having a marvelous Christmas Break! **

* * *

"Arthur," Leon greeted, clasping his King's hand. "We've been expecting you." The First Knight searched his friend's eyes, trying to detect any abnormalities. It's not as though Arthur's ever been delayed before –especially with Merlin around; the clumsy boy is nice, but not very time-savvy– however, the king's never been over an hour late.

"Yes, that would be Merlin's fault," Arthur said smugly. "He got a bit…distracted."

Leon glanced toward the manservant in question and was surprised to find he was blushing crimson red.

"Have you discovered anything more?" Arthur asked, sparing a glance in his manservant's direction to show him a triumphant smirk. Leon hadn't the slightest idea as to what his King and manservant had gotten up to this time – he's not quite sure he wants to know.

"…No, sire. Sorry," Leon said, schooling his features; it wasn't proper to show the King his confusion. "Only that it, whatever 'it' is, has apparently been here for as long as the people can remember, but it only took a couple villagers every year. However, it seems to have escalated within this past month. That is all."

Arthur frowned, mulling over the news, the humor of before quickly dissipated from his mind. "Thank you, Leon. Any witnesses?"

Leon's eyes softened at the question, but instead of answering, he turned to his complain, Rion, who took a step forward and bowed before speaking, a glint of sadness and pity in his eyes. "Yes, sire. A young boy."

The King heaved a sigh at the news. Whatever the boy saw, Arthur only hoped it wasn't too bad. He knows of the night terrors children can have after seeing something terrible happen; unfortunately, he's seen it far too many times. However, Arthur had a job to do, and it wouldn't help anybody if all he did was stand around and pity the young boy.

"Take us to him," he commanded to Rion. "Come Merlin. The rest of you, scout the lake."

There was a chorus of "Yes, sire!" as the knights dispersed. Gwaine's response was the only one that sounded cheeky.

Sometimes Arthur wonders why he keeps that man. Of course, then a fight usually breaks out and Arthur remembers exactly why he knighted the alcoholic – he is very handy with a sword –or anything else that happens to be within his reach– and he was a genuine friend…despite his misguided notions of how to treat royalty.

Huh. Both Gwaine and Merlin seem to have the same mindset: both treat royalty as if they weren't any better than the next man, yet both have a fierce loyalty to those they call friends.

Arthur shook his head, clearing away his thoughts. Wondering what made his friends so loyal to him would be a waste of time. They're loyal, that's all that matters right now.

"Let's go," the King said, urging Rion to lead the way.

x~X~x

An older woman with her two young children, around the ages of ten and eleven, left the house crying silent tears. Entering the house, Merlin noticed a basket full of food resting on the table. He realized that the women must've brought it, and when he saw the lone figure, he understood why the departing visitors were crying.

Sitting on a lone stool in the corner sat their witness. He couldn't have been older than eleven, but already, his shoulders were slumped, carrying a weight on them of the horrors only grown soldiers see. Even his eyes held a knowledge that was beyond his eleven years.

Merlin was sure he'd never seen anything more devastating.

"He lost his whole family," Rion whispered, his voice full of pity. Apparently the boy heard Rion –and his pity– for he immediately stiffened. He looked up at the three newcomers; his eyes mirrored a cold, hard wall and his body language yelled: _Go away, Leave me alone, I don't want your useless pity_.

Cautiously, Arthur took a step forward, introducing himself.

"Hello," he said with a genuine yet small smile on his face. "I'm Arthur, what's your name?"

The boy said nothing, only shifting on the stool and staring pointedly at the ground beneath his feet.

Clearing his throat, Arthur tried again. "I'm _King _Arthur."

All that earned him was a slight look of awe before his gaze hardened and he cast it back down again.

Walking up behind his King, Merlin said quietly, "Let me try."

At first, Arthur looked as though he might laugh, but then his expression changed as he looked –truly _looked_– at his manservant. For once, Merlin felt as though he was seeing Arthur his Best Friend, not Arthur the King of Prats – and this was in front of one of his subjects and a knight! Something passed between the two men, Merlin wasn't entirely sure what, but he understood the significance of the nod he was given. Arthur trusted him. _He trusted him_.

Merlin really hopes he doesn't screw this up.

Swapping places, after giving his friend a big grin, Merlin now squatted in front of the boy while Arthur stood with Rion. He could hear Rion whispering, "Is this a good idea, sire?" behind him, but he also heard Arthur shushing him.

"Hey," Merlin grinned. "I'm Merlin. Don't mind the two nutters behind me."

The boy darted his eyes to Arthur, then Merlin, then back to the ground all in the course of a second.

"He said he's the king," the boy mumbled.

Merlin grinned. "Yeah, but I call 'em as I see 'em."

(Rion's footsteps creaked on the wood floor as he walked out, following Arthur's orders to join the other knights; however, the warlock was no longer paying attention to what was behind him.)

There wasn't another response, but merlin wasn't put off. Settling down, back to the wall, Merlin continued talking, "I didn't grow up in Camelot, you know. I'm from a tiny little village called Ealdor. I mean it too; tiny, tiny village. All sorts of people would travel through it. Of course, it wasn't often, but when they did, they always had the most incredible stories." The warlock grinned, reminiscing his childhood.

"This is a larger village than mine was. I'm guessing many more travelers pass by here, am I right?" He still didn't receive and answer, but Merlin wasn't done yet. "They have the most amazing stories, don't they? Full of wonders and adventures. Some have strong, powerful kings," Merlin's eyes flickered to Arthur, where he stood quietly at the doorway. He kept his gaze on his friend as he cautiously said his next words. "Some even speak of magic, and the creatures that are born from it."

Suddenly afraid of what he'd find in Arthur's eyes, Merlin turned to focus on a random pot that rested on a shelf opposite him; he never saw his friend's look of surprise and anger…and child-like curiosity.

"My mum used to tell me stories too; about the people who could live in lakes," Merlin said, still staring intently at the pot. From his peripheral vision, he saw the boy watching him, his focus no longer on the ground, but on Merlin.

"You ever heard of them?" The warlock didn't wait for an answer; he knew he wouldn't receive one anyway. "My mum said they were beautiful… Sure, that had a fish tail for legs, but she'd always say they were the most beautiful creatures on earth. Even the men were handsome. 'That's what happens when you're born of magic,' she'd say."

What Merlin didn't say, was that his mum would tell him that whenever Merlin was feeling like an outsider. She'd tell him how beautiful and special her son was, because of the incredible power he possessed. As a young child, hearing the myths and legends of creatures similar to him –because even as a young age, Merlin knew he was different than other sorcerers– calmed him. It would remind the young Merlin that there were others like him out on the world. Other people, other creatures, that could feel the earth and its magic, just like him. He wasn't alone.

Slowly, the boy slid off the stool and next to Merlin.

"She told me of the legends," Merlin continued. "If you ever cornered a mer, that's what she'd call them, or managed to catch one's eye, they'd grant you a wish. Any wish. Except make someone fall in love you with. Or have them kill someone for you. Because, you know, there are rules to this sort of thing."

The boy's lips twitched into something that resembled the ghost of a smile.

"Mum said they could sing," the boy whispered. "It would be the most beautiful sound you'd ever hear, and, if you did hear it, you'd be the luckiest person alive." He took in a sharp breath. "She never said it'd also be the last thing you ever heard too." With that, the boy let out a sob. He held his face in his hands, crying as if he'd been holding in all his emotions for the past few weeks. Reaching around the boy's thin shoulders, Merlin suspected the boy probably had.

Merlin waited until the boy's shoulders stopped shaking. He continued waiting until the boy was silent.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

Visibly swallowing, the boy shook his head. "But I will. I'll talk about…it," he whispered. "If you promise to, to stop it. To kill the creature."

"I will do everything in my power to stop this thing," Merlin promised, looking the boy in the eyes. For a moment, that's all they did: look into the other's eyes. Then slowly, the boy nodded, accepting the promise Merlin made.

"My name's Eaton."

Merlin smiled. "Hello Eaton."

"Hello Merlin," Eaton said quietly, almost shyly as he bit his lip in an attempt to hide his grin. He paused, allowing himself time to adjust. Finally, he began speaking.

"My family was going fishing. Well, my dad and I. We're…We were fishermen. He was teaching me," Eaton took a deep breath, forcing himself to continue. "My mum was with my little sister, teaching her how to swim. But…But I think she went under and didn't come back up. Because the next thing I knew was that mum was shouting frantically. She kept calling her name. 'Poppy!' she kept shouting. Over and over again. Dad and I…We rowed the boat toward her, but she screamed at us, saying that we may run over little Poppy…Then suddenly, she just…She didn't disappear. Not exactly. I saw…I saw something grab her and pull her down. It looked like a hand. A blackened, human hand."

Eaton was hyperventilating; Merlin guessed his brain was already supplying him the image of the creature before his mouth could describe it.

"Shh, you're doing fine," he said, rubbing Eaton's back soothingly.

"Th-Then," Eaton paused, taking a few deep breathes. He squeezed his eyes shut until his breathing evened out. Opening his eyes slowly, Eaton continued. "Then the boat started tipping. Dad and I were holding on tight. I…I think he was crying. I think I was too. But dad, he…He looked at me and asked me if I trusted him. I told him yes, or maybe I just nodded my head – I can't remember. But the next thing I knew, I was being thrown out of the boat. Dad had…He had grabbed me and thrown me. I was pretty close to the shore too. Dad shouted at me to swim, but then he…He started…" Eaton took a few more calming breaths.

"He started screaming, but I didn't dare look back. I just kept swimming and swimming. I made it to where I could stand up, but something grabbed my ankle and pulled me under. She…It looked terrifying. But I could see where it used to be beautiful. And she, it, was singing. Mum had been right; her voice was amazing. I felt as though I would be safe forever."

(Merlin remembered his own encounter with the creature just last night. He hadn't felt 'safe' listening to the music. Maybe it was because he was Emrys.)

Eaton frowned, his face showing his confusion. "But then it stopped. I don't know why, but she…She stopped. I opened my eyes, and saw her face. It's face. It was…Everything was black and, and…Dead-looking." Eaton stared into Merlin's eyes, his eyes wide. "She looked dead, Merlin. Dead and sick. I don't think that was her real form. I think she's been poisoned. Her face was angled away from me, I don't know which direction, but I felt like she was listening to something. Then she faced me, and…" Eaton shuddered.

"After she left, I realized I couldn't see any longer. I moved upwards until my head broke the surface. I could hear shouting coming from the shore. It was…well, it was my village. They kept telling me to come to them, so I did. I passed…" Tears began filling the boy's eyes once again. "Gods, I passed my mother. She…She looked _eaten_. And then I saw Poppy. She didn't look…But she was dead. I knew she was dead.

"As soon as I got out, I came home and I haven't left since." Licking his lips, Eaton looked up to Merlin, catching his eye (which was easy since Merlin was already staring at him), then ducking his gaze back down to the ground again. "Some friends have been coming over. Making sure I eat and stuff, but I haven't…I don't…" He brought his eyes back to Merlin's. Eaton found peace in those eyes. He didn't know why, but he knew –he _knew_– that this young man in front of him could save him. He knew that Merlin could to so much, despite his skinny, lanky, and otherwise unsolider-like frame. Yet Eaton found he trusted Merlin. His primal instincts told him that Merlin was safe and good and Eaton trusted Merlin.

(Arthur still stood in the doorway, completely forgotten by both the young boy and the young man.)

"They're dead!" Eaton cried. Tears spilled from his eyes like waterfalls. "What am I supposed to do now? I can't just…How do I move on? What if I forget about them? I don't want to! I want to remember, but it hurts! Merlin, it hurts so bad!"

He felt Merlin pull him into his chest. Clinging onto his blue shirt, Eaton wept. He didn't realize all the emotions he'd been holding in until now.

"You're okay," Merlin whispered, rocking them back and forth. "Let it out. I'm right here."

When Eaton pulled back, he suddenly remembered that there was also another man in the room. And not just any man. The King! His cheeks went red with embarrassment. He had made a total fool of himself in front of the King!

The wood underneath his feet creaked as the King walked forward. Merlin looked up in surprise, also forgetting that the King had been in the room the entire time.

"I'm…sorry about your family," King Arthur said awkwardly. "But thank you. For the information, I mean."

Eaton wasn't sure what to say, but beside him, Merlin breathed a sigh out that seemed to say: _What am I going to do with you, Arthur?_

"Don't mind him too much," Merlin said, his arms still wrapped around Eaton in a gentle embrace. "Arthur's not very good with sentiments and emotions and stuff like that."

Eaton whipped his head back at the King, fully expecting anger in his eyes. What he saw was surprising. Instead of rage, King Arthur looked embarrassed as he offered a weak smile. Feeling it would be safe to ask Merlin another question, Eaton turned to attention away from his King.

"Merlin," he began slowly, "I don't…I don't want to forget them, but I…"

"You'll never forget them," Merlin said, sounding as if he spoke from experience. "Eventually, it gets easier, but at first, it might seem really difficult. Just keep finding reasons to…to carry on the way they'd want you to."

Eaton had a feeling Merlin meant to say _live_; _keep finding reasons to live and not end your life too early_. He wondered what happened in this manservant's life to cause him to feel as if he didn't have any reason to live.

"But it truly does get easier," Merlin promised. Now Eaton knew the young man was speaking from experience. "'Time heals all wounds,' my mum used to say, and while it heals, it doesn't erase. You'll never forget them; don't worry."

Not realizing he needed to hear that –needed someone to listen to him without a look of pity in their eyes– Eaton surged forward, embracing Merlin.

"Thank you," he whispered. Merlin just squeezed back.

x~X~x

Leaving Eaton's home, Merlin felt somewhat hollow. Hearing the young boy's story caused all of Merlin's memories to resurface.

Meeting his father for the first time, only to have him die in his son's own arms.

Rescuing Freya and falling in love, then losing her nearly a day later.

Keeping his promise to the dragon, and then having hundreds of deaths and injuries weighing on his shoulders.

Poisoning Morgana; fighting Morgana.

Escaping death; causing deaths.

All of his mistakes and failures bubbled to the surface of his mind, reminding him of what he's become. A monster with the face of an innocent man–

"You seemed to speak from experience."

Merlin started, not realizing how deeply he'd gone into himself during his reminiscing. "What?" he asked.

"You seemed to speak from experience," Arthur repeated quietly. He said no more after that, only continued walking, but he was obviously in deep thought. Deciding it wouldn't be the time for Merlin to joke that Arthur shouldn't "think too hard," the warlock remained silent instead. Then, for no apparent reason, Arthur abruptly stopped. Confused, Merlin stopped as well.

When Arthur turned to him, saying, "Merlin…" and obviously trying to figure out how he was going to say…whatever it was he was going to say next, Merlin waited patiently for his friend to gather his bearings – he was puzzled, but he waited patiently. However, as soon as it seemed like Arthur figured out how exactly he wanted to say whatever-it-was, someone stopped him.

"Pardon me, are you King Arthur?"

Frowning, Arthur turned to the man jogging –he was slightly overweight, so he was more like hurriedly waddling– to reach them, but not before giving Merlin a mystifying look that the warlock had no idea how to decipher.

"I am he," Arthur said. "Who are you?"

The man smiled. "I'm Oland, and I know where the creature comes from."

x~X~x

"I don't like this," Merlin muttered for the untempt time.

"Yes, you've mentioned," Arthur hissed back.

"We should've taken the men," Merlin protested.

Oland, who was walking ahead of the bickering duo, glanced back. "And risk another attack while you gather up the men?"

"People are staying far away from the lake! No one would've been taken. Besides, the knights are there to protect people."

"And can you guarantee their safety? Can you guarantee than no one, including a Knight of Camelot, would be taken from the lake by the creature?" Oland asked. At Merlin responding silence, he chuckled. "I thought so."

Merlin didn't like Oland. It wasn't because he interrupted a conversation that Merlin knew was well-overdue and well-needed or because he convinced Arthur to follow him to a cave where the supposed pool is that Oland claims the creature was born from without any backup other than Merlin (okay…maybe those were two parts of the reason he didn't like Oland), but it was mainly due to his instincts. Even if his sense of self-preservation was barely in existence, the warlock always had a strong intuition, and right now, his instincts were warning him of Oland. Merlin wasn't entirely sure _why_, but he knew something was off with the man. His magic and his instincts are always intertwined, and right now, they're saying that Oland is dangerous.

If only Arthur would _listen _to him!

Even if Merlin didn't listen to his magic, Oland's appearance was enough to give someone pause for thought. He was wearing dark, baggy clothes and a big hat, as if he were trying to keep to the shadows. Had Merlin been scanning the area and happened to see him, the warlock would've just passed him by, not really paying attention to him. That was what was bothering Merlin – Oland blended in so well, he could do almost anything and no one would even glance at him.

Also, he was walking pretty fast for a short, wide guy. That's always suspicious.

Glancing back at the village, Merlin heaved a sigh. He knew they were going to regret following the man. He knew…but he couldn't just leave Arthur out on his own. The clot pole would probably die without him. (Unfortunately, that wasn't an understatement – Arthur would actually _die _without his secret protector there to save him.)

"Hurry up, Merlin!" Arthur shouted from up ahead.

Grumbling about his hatred for steep hills, Merlin began climbing once again, only to stop as he heard a twig snap. It came from behind him. Slowly, the warlock scanned the trees and rocks. He waited. A minute passed, then another. Someone was watching him, he could feel it. But where were they?

"_Merlin_!"

Merlin jumped at the sound of his name. He turned to see Arthur, staring down at him from what appeared to be the top of the hill.

"Get up here, now!"

"Coming!" he shouted back. Taking a last moment to glance around, Merlin began climbing once again. As he reached the top, he nearly slipped on some loose leaves, but Arthur caught his arm and hauled him up.

"Gods, can you be any clumsier?" Arthur asked.

Upon seeing the next part of their journey (going _down _the steep hill), Merlin was extremely tempted to answer "Yes," and then proceed to "accidentally" trip, tackling Arthur to the ground and using his body to surf down the hill, which would be far faster than walking. However, knowing that it would only result in an even angrier Arthur, Merlin opted to bush himself off and remain stonily silent. Unfortunately, Arthur took that as a "Of course I can be even clumsier Arthur. I am _Merlin _after all," and the King began to laugh.

Then, because obviously the gods hate him, Merlin tripped over a tree root. It really didn't help Merlin's case, especially when he tumbled down the hill because of the bloody tree root. At least the way down went by quicker than the way up. It only took a few minutes to get down the hill, but still, Merlin would've preferred the long walk or using Arthur. Less scrapes and bruises that way.

As he lay on his back, still dizzy from the spinning and tumbling, he heard someone call his name from above. Whoever was calling him was also making a load of ruckus trying to get down the hill. By the time Merlin realized who it was, the voice was much closer to him.

"Merlin!"

Suddenly, Arthur was in front of his face, looking a bit winded and…a bit frantic? That's an emotion Merlin doesn't generally see directed towards him. It's nice when Arthur lets his guard down long enough to show an actual, genuine emotion.

"Merlin, are you okay?"

"Fine…" the warlock groaned. He sat up gingerly. "Ouch."

Merlin was content to just sit there for a few minutes, but then Oland's face came into view. It was still partly darkened by his large hat, but the stench coming from his mouth was enough to make Merlin want to gag. Somehow, he managed not to.

"He's fine," Oland declared after poking and prodding him –_Ouch! Stop it!_– for a few seconds. "Let's keep going."

With a strength that he certainly shouldn't possess, Oland grabbed one of Merlin's hands and lifted him onto his feet with, what seemed to be, extremely great ease. He turned around and continued walking, leaving Merlin to stumble backwards into Arthur.

"Should that have been possible?" he asked dumfounded.

Arthur furrowed his brow. "I…We should keep an eye on him."

"Is this a good time to say 'I told you so'?"

Narrowing his eyes, Arthur shoved Merlin forward. "No. Shut up, Merlin." But there was lightness in his eyes, and his shove was playful.

"Whatever you say, _sire_," the manservant said, grinning from ear to ear. Arthur grinned back.

"Oi! You lot! Come on!" Oland shouted from up ahead.

The two friends looked at each other. Shrugging, Arthur said, "Let's go."

Merlin still had a terrible feeling about this.


	4. Chapter 4

****OH MY GOSH I AM SO SORRY** ****My dad took me away on Friday the 27th of December and I didn't have my computer and when I finally got back, I was so tired I just wasn't able to update and I'm so sorry! Please forgive me :(**

**Okay, so **_**now **_**the plot really takes off. I promise! And we get to see what the knights have been up to the whole time. I've been missing me some Gwaine. Anyone else?**

**I do not remember when (or even if) Arthur found out about the man named Emrys, but I feel that he must've at least **_**heard **_**the name before. So even if he hadn't heard of him between seasons 4 and 5, then let's just pretend he has, shall we? ;)**

**I used this as a translator from Modern English to Old English (remove the spaces): www . oldenglishtranslator . co . uk /**

* * *

…_Earlier that day…_

Reaching the lake, the knights had no idea where to start. It wasn't as if they could drain the water in order to search for…whatever-it-was. And going into it was _out_ of the question. So the knights stood there, at the shore of the nearly mile-wide body of water, in silence, each hoping to be the first one to provide a course of action.

"So… Any ideas boys?"

It wasn't a surprise to anyone that Gwaine spoke first.

"You seem excited, Gwaine. Do _you _have an idea?" Leon asked wryly.

"None that would be very effective or relevant to this mission."

Leon sighed, but was pleased the rest of the men chuckled from Gwaine's comment. Besides Gwaine and himself, the others were all new recruits (Elyan and Percival were ordered to stay in Camelot to help protect the city). Arthur had insisted that the recruits had to learn sometime and this was the perfect opportunity. His King had made a decision, so Leon should have no qualms about it, but, secretly, he still doubted the success of the mission with the inexperienced men. It's one thing to be good on the training ground, but out in the real world is where it counts. There are no second chances, especially when it comes to someone else'slife.

"Wayne, Aldrich, Oswin, Denton. You guys have any ideas?" Gwaine asked his new comrades.

The four men exchanged similar glances of discomfort and hesitation. None of them wished to be the first to admit they hadn't come up with anything. After several seconds, Denton, the bravest of them, spoke up.

"Sir Leon, Sir Gwaine, I do not understand how King Arthur expects us to search the lake. Should we get a boat and row to the center?"

Leon shook his head. "No, we risk the creature attacking us. But this is exactly why Arthur brought you out here; you four and Rion are the five best soldiers he's been training. If you manage to prove your worth out here, you'll become official Camelot warriors."

All four of them drew themselves up slightly at Leon's last comment.

"But," Aldrich seemed to deflate. "This is the calmest lake I've ever seen. There's not even a single ripple in the middle of it. It's as if everything in this lake is hiding."

"Or dead," Wayne muttered pessimistically.

The men fell silent, each thinking of the one creature that would be alive, despite whether or not the normal lake inhabitants would be dead. It was the thing they were meant to destroy. They had to save this village. Somehow.

"Maybe we should simply scour the edges of the lake?" Oswin tentatively asked after a minute of silence. "Perhaps something will have washed up. A clue of some sort."

Leon looked towards Gwaine, the only other senior knight. His shrug wasn't reassuring, but it was the best they were going to get.

"All right," Leon agreed. "We split up. Gwaine, Aldrich, and Oswin go right; Denton, Wayne, and I will go left. We'll meet on the other side and report."

The four men split up into their assigned groups and began walking, surveying the land and water with great concentration.

Before splitting up, Gwaine leaned into Leon and whispered, "I hope Arthur and Merlin are having more luck than we are."

Leon nodded in silent agreement.

x~X~x

…_Back to the boys…_

Merlin didn't think this could get any worse. Already, he had a high suspicion that someone was following them, and he really was starting to get annoyed by his magic's insistence that something was off about Oland, their shady guide.

But now, _now_,Oland expected them to just follow him into a dark cave that was a supposed "short cut" to the pool that the creature apparently came from.

Needless to say, when Arthur started following Oland into the cave without a second thought, Merlin was about ready to throttle him, King or not.

"Arthur," the manservant hissed, pulling back the King's arm. "Are you _sure _this is a good idea?"

"Of course," Arthur said, tugging his arm out of Merlin's (surprisingly strong) grasp. "We need to stop the creature from killing anyone else."

"Yeah? And how are we going to do that? Poison? Poison the lake? Poison might not even kill it, Arthur, but poison would definitely kill everything _else_ in the lake."

"Stop saying poison; we're not going to poison anything," Arthur ground out. His teeth were set in a way that showed annoyance, but Merlin could see the hesitation in his King's eyes.

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Are you two bickering again?"

Oland emerged from the cave, looking at the two men in amusement. "Blimey, you two argue more than my mum and dad did, and they argued a lot, so that's saying something."

Merlin blinked. He feels he's been insulted. Or he feels like that sentence should have offended him in some way, but he couldn't figure out how or why. Merlin opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Beside him, Arthur looks about as confused as he feels.

Realizing their puzzlement, Oland chuckled. "Never mind," he said, waving his hand as he spoke. "Come on."

Even though he wasn't entirely sure what just happened, Merlin knew enough to stop Oland before he got too far away.

"Wait!" he cried. Oland stopped and turned around, one eyebrow raised upwards in a silent question. Not bothered by it in the least –Gaius' raised eyebrow was much more terrifying and Merlin saw it nearly every day– the warlock continued. "What are we to do once we arrive at the lake?"

The look he received from Oland was one that the King gave him regularly. However, Arthur's _'Did you seriously just say/do that?' _look has more exasperation to it while Oland's had Merlin repressing a shudder.

"We're going to stop the creature," he said slowly, as if Merlin were a child incompetent of doing even the simplest task.

"Yes, I know that much," Merlin replied, trying not to roll his eyes or curl his hands into fists out of pure frustration. "But how do we _do_ that?"

"I have an idea," was all Oland said before he turned and marched into the cave, not looking back.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur walked up to his friend. "Look what you've done now. You've angered our guide."

"Arthur, I don't trust him," Merlin said seriously. "There's something about him that-"

"Oh, you've got another _feeling _now, do you?" Arthur huffed. He paused before admitting, "Unfortunately, I do agree with you somewhat."

"Unfortunately?" Merlin repeated with a frown.

Arthur ignored him. "However, I have my sword," he patted Excalibur that hung by his side, "So there's no reason to worry. Plus there's one of him and two of us." Arthur looked Merlin up and down. "Well…one and a half."

"Hey!" Merlin went to (lightly) punch Arthur in the arm, but the prat dodged it. And then he had the nerve to laugh! (But that was okay since Merlin was trying to repress his own urge to laugh himself.)

"Fine," Arthur grinned. "One and three quarters. Now let's go."

Despite the fact that only a few seconds ago Merlin had been laughing –or trying not to, which had caused a grin to appear on his face– the warlock immediately became somber. Sighing, he followed Arthur into the cave. It wasn't as if he a choice. Follow and risk landing in a trap, or stay out here and risk Arthur getting killed.

Sometimes Merlin really hated that his magic's sole purpose was for Arthur, but other times he could see the great King his friend would become and if Merlin only helped Arthur become that King, become the Once and Future King of all of Albion, then that would be enough for him. (And if he wasn't killed in the process. That would be good too.)

Oland was waiting a yard or two inside the cave, holding a light torch in one hand. (Where did he get that?) The flames cast shadows everywhere, making everything difficult to decipher, but Merlin was sure Oland was smirking at the two of them.

"This way," Oland said.

For what seemed to be an eternity, the King and secret warlock followed Oland into the twists and turns of the cave in silence. Merlin tried to remember all the turns they took, but after the tenth right (or was it the seventh left?) turn, the manservant finally gave up.

The deeper they walked, the darker the cave got…until it slowly started getting lighter. Soon, the light formed a small ball far in the distance that kept getting bigger and bigger with each passing step. It only took Merlin a few moments to realize what he was seeing was coming from outside. The light appeared to be moving on the cave wall, and Merlin realized that it must also a reflection. A reflection from the pool Oland was talking about.

"We're almost there," Oland promised. There was a gleam in his eyes that reminded the warlock why exactly he didn't trust him. "Just a few more minutes."

x~X~x

…_Earlier that day…again…_

Leon stared at the lake and resisted banging his head against a wall. Or he would have if there was even a wall to bang his head on. This mission was fruitless. Arthur sent them to the lake. Well, they're at the lake. Now what?

"Sir Leon," Wayne called. "I think I see Rion."

Sure enough, the seventh member of the group was walking towards them. He was too far away to have a conversation with him though.

"Come on," Leon called to his fellow knights. "Let's meet him."

Wayne and Denton followed obediently, grateful to have something to do other than watch a peaceful lake. The walk was long, but no one complained, knowing it was much better than the alternative. After several long minutes, Rion's small frame became more and more human-sized. After nearly five full minutes of walking, the knights finally reached their companion.

"Rion!" Leon greeted his comrade with a firm handshake. "How did it go?"

The knight shrugged. "It's still going. I just… I couldn't bear to hear it again."

Closing his eyes, Leon took a deep breath and sighed. Hearing the boy's story had been bad enough the first time; and even then, it hadn't been the whole thing. The boy –_Eaton_, Leon recalls– had barely said a word to them, only opening up when they had explained they were from Camelot and were here to help. (It was mainly the villagers who spoke about the incident, and even then the information was muddled and often times incongruent with others' stories.) What little the boy reluctantly stated wasn't much, and Leon hoped Arthur and Merlin had more luck then he and Rion had.

"What will they do after?" Denton asked, interrupting Leon's thoughts.

Rion shrugged. "They didn't say. Maybe more investigating in the village?"

"Well I doubt they'd have any better luck," Wayne muttered.

Leon sighed. "Must you _always _be so pessimistic?"

"What?" Wayne asked. "There's nothing we can do. Even if the creature attacked, we've no idea how to stop it. If there's magic involved, how can we expect swords to do anything useful?"

No one commented. While they were used to Wayne's negative remarks, none of the knights wished to be reminded of how valid his comments were this time. After a moment of uneasy silence, Rion attempted to change the subject – it didn't work.

"The people don't dare go near the water." Looking back toward the village he had just left, the knight shook his head sadly. "They're all too afraid."

"And they have a right to be," Denton cut in. "But Wayne's right. How are we to stop this? It doesn't even appear to be in the lake. _Nothing _appears to be in the lake."

Wanting the negative and hopeless talk to end, Leon spoke up, his voice hard, "Talk like that will get us nowhere. In fact, talking itself will get us nowhere. We must all return to the lake and do what Arthur asked of us." He turned to Rion and explained, "Search the shores and the waves for anything that might uncover what this beast is or how to stop it. We will meet us with Gwaine, Aldrich, and Oswin, find out what they've uncovered, and then we'll go from there."

With that, Leon turned on his heel and began making his way back to the shores of the tranquil lake. After a second or two, he heard the three other knights follow him, all mumbling something to themselves or one another. Leon let them, knowing he had his own doubts, but his rank as Captain forbade him from expressing them.

_Please,_Leon begged, though he wasn't sure who or what he was begging to. _Please let Arthur and Merlin find something. And keep them safe. Lord knows all the trouble those two can get up to._

x~X~x

…_And we're back to our boys…_

The pool wasn't very wide. Two people, maybe three if they squeezed, might be able to fit in it, but it wouldn't have been comfortable, even with only two. However, it _was_ beautiful. Merlin couldn't deny that. Beautiful and very powerful.

The water was a crystal blue and it cast its bright reflection everywhere, even though there wasn't any light source. The power imitating from the pool was almost intoxicating; it was all Merlin could do not to dive into the waters and stay there forever. Yet, there was something off about the magic, something vile. Normally, Merlin would consider any magic that beckoned a man to drown himself vile, but this time was something different. It was as if the magic here was sick. Earlier, the warlock had talked about poisoning the pool, and thus the lake, but there was no need for that – the pool had already been poisoned. Something evil lurked here.

"Is…Is that it?" Arthur asked, his voice betraying the wonder he felt.

For the first time, Oland's smile was genuine and peaceful. "Yes," he murmured. "Beautiful, isn't it? So calming…So welcoming…Wouldn't you just like to take a swim?"

Arthur blinked, confusion engulfing his face. He watched the swirling waters of the pool as if totally entranced. "I…"

Thankfully, Merlin was on top of things. As usual.

Grabbing his friend's arm, Merlin pulled Arthur away from the pool, so the waters weren't in his direct line of sight any longer. "No. No we wouldn't," Merlin said, forcefully enough to jar the King back into reality.

"Yes. I mean," Arthur shook his head in a quick manner, helping his clear his head. "Merlin's right. We did not come for a swim; we came to stop this creature."

Oland's smile turned into a glower that, had it been possible, would've shot daggers. "Pity," he snarled.

With a few murmured words and the glow of his eyes, Oland sent the two men flying backwards. Arthur and Merlin hit a rocky wall, both hitting the ground with a loud _THUMP! _

"Sorcerer," Arthur spat as he tried to stand back up, but the breath had been knocked out of him and Arthur wasn't quite sure if he remembered how to walk.

Merlin groaned as he, too, tried to stand up. He groaned because of the pain –of _course _he had to hit his head on a particularly sharp rock; of _course_– but he also groaned because Arthur wasn't knocked out. Honestly, it wasn't good for the King to be constantly bashed into unconsciousness, but at least it allowed Merlin to overtake the adversary without worrying about his magic finding out.

Once again, Merlin ignored the voice in his (painfully throbbing) head asking him, _When? When are you _ever_ going to let your friend discover the rest of you? The part you've kept from his for years. Are you _ever _going to tell him?_

Oland chuckled. "Yes. Yes I am. Surprised?"

Arthur only glowered.

The chuckle turned into laughter. By the time Merlin and Arthur managed to stand on their feet, Oland was doubled over, tears springing from his eyes as he kept laughing.

"I don't see what's so funny," Arthur drawled, taking small steps forward as he regained his breath.

Oland didn't answer, except for his continuous laughter…which was really starting to get on Merlin's nerves. As he and his King inched forward, Excalibur now unsheathed and ready for use, Oland suddenly stopped laughing. He brought his hand up and whispered, "_Fríese_."

The effect was immediate. The King and manservant both froze in place, unable to move a single muscle save for the ones in their faces.

"Nice try," Oland said, actually sounding slightly impressed. "You know, you should've listened to your friend, King Arthur. Shouldn't have trusted me." He grinned at the scowl that appeared on both faces of his captives. "Ah well. Shame on you, but good for me, yeah? Just do yourselves a favor and don't think about escaping. First off, you can't. Freezing spells tend to have that effect of immovability. Secondly, you two are alone here. Completely on your own, and this time, no one will save you."

"This time?" Arthur repeated, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, 'this time'." The sorcerer gave them a curious look. "I've been keeping tabs on you, Arthur. So many close calls and lucky breaks you've had these past years. You can't honestly believe that all those times you got out of danger, it wasn't because of some magical assist."

Had Merlin not already been frozen, he was sure his limbs would've locked, gluing him in the place he was already standing in. How did Oland know about him? How did he even know he _used_ magic? Merlin had only met the man today!

"What are you talking about?" Arthur demanded, his voice cold and hard.

"I'm talking," Oland said slowly, "About a man who has helped you for a long time Arthur Pendragon. A man who has saved you and your precious Camelot countless times, betraying his own kind."

Oland leaned in close to Arthur. "His name is Emrys. And he possesses magic."

Panicking, Merlin was thankful that the freezing spell contained his quickened breathing – his chest didn't heave violently, which would've been brought to the attention of the other men, because he was couldn't move. Still, his eyes widened at Oland's words, and the warlock began to chant spells in his mind, hoping to find one that would unfreeze him. (After that…he didn't know what he'd do.)

"I've heard that name before…" Arthur trails off, his expression unreadable.

"The Druids speak of him often," Oland continues, leaning away from Arthur. He wonders the cave idly, knowing his captives will not escape. "They say he will help unite the lands of Albion. Help the Once and Future King." He pauses. "That's you, by the way," he informs Arthur derisively. "Just in case you didn't figure that out."

"And why would he do this? Why would he help _me_? Answer that." Arthur still looked furious, but now there was curiosity behind his tone. Sure, he'd noticed all of the luck they've had –bandits dropping their swords, enemies tripping on air– but that's all Arthur thought it was. Luck. If someone, some _sorcerer _no less, was helping him, the King who would see him burned for such crimes, then Arthur has to wonder why. He said the very thing to Oland.

"This Emrys must know of Camelot's laws. If I were to ever find him out, he should know he'd be burned." Beside Arthur, he heard Merlin's sharp intake of breath, but he ignored it for now. "So why, _why_, would Emrys want to help me?"

Oland frowned. "Sorry your highness, but I don't know." Shrugging, the sorcerer continued, "Frankly, I don't even care to hear, let alone dwell on, his pathetic excuses. See, Emrys is supposed to bring magic back to the land, he's supposed to restore Albion to its former glory! But he's doing a shite job of it. I mean, you're Arthur! Uther Pendragon's _son_. If anything, Emrys should be trying to _kill _you, not help you in killing his own kind! Hasn't there been enough innocent deaths already? Children, Arthur. Children have been _murdered _for something they have no control over. They were born as Druids or born to parents practicing magic. How is that right? Killing those children? And how is it right for Emrys to be saving you from the vengeance you _deserve_?"

There was silence. Oland was breathing heavily, seething at the reminder that Emrys, the man who was supposed to _save _his people, was destroying them instead. After a moment, he turned to Merlin.

"You've been awfully quite there. Don't have anything to say about my Lord Emrys?"

"I- Wait, _Lord_? I thought you hated him," Merlin sputtered, not knowing how else to take Oland's comment.

Oland smiled darkly. "Oh, I _do _hate him. If I saw him, I wouldn't hesitate to burn that traitor myself." Merlin repressed a shudder –which was surprisingly easy to do whilst being frozen– at the mere mention of _burning _again. "But, according to the Druids, Emrys is like a King to all us magic folk. Like a god or something."

"He is no god," Merlin shot back instantly. The thought of someone bowing down to him or, gods forbid, _worshiping _him as one of the gods themselves, was terrifying; repulsive even. "He is no king either. He's just a man."

"Just a sorcerer," Oland corrected. "In fact, if you go by what some Druids say, he's not even that."

"Than what _is _he?" Arthur asked.

Oland took a step back from Merlin. He wondered back to the pool. He walked until he was on the other side of it, outside, and facing the two men he had kept frozen at the entrance of the cave. The moon seemed to shine down on him.

When had it become night?

"They say he's a creature of the Old Religion himself," the sorcerer murmured. "More powerful than anyone who ever lived. Even those to come cannot match his power." He looked up. "Which was why I did what I did. I had to have more power."

"And what did you do?" Arthur demanded, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone.

Laughing again, Oland pointed at the pool. "Why, I took control of the creature in the lake."

"So _you're _responsible for all those deaths," Arthur fumed.

"Oh no, that was her." Oland pointed to a figure rising from the pool.

For a terrifying moment, Merlin thought that the girl –the charred, decaying creature in front of him– was Syra. They looked so alike… Except that Syra was safe in Camelot and she was certainly _not _'taken control' by Oland.

"What… What is that?" Arthur asked at the same time Merlin said in horror, "What did you do to her?"

"That, my good friends, is a siren." Oland scrunched his lips together in displeasure. "Well, she _used _to be a siren. I'm not really sure what she is now."

"You're killing her!" Merlin cried. He could feel the magic eating away at her. Sure, she was a flesh-eating creature of magic that probably wouldn't hesitate on killing and/or eating him, but that's just how she was born. If Merlin held that against her, he'd be a hypocrite.

Rolling his eyes, Oland replied, "Don't be so concerned. She would've attacked you and eaten you by now if I hadn't been controlling her."

"She's still alive!" Merlin bellowed. "She thinks and feels and breathes, and you're _killing her_."

"Yes well, she's serving her purpose."

"And what purpose is that?" Arthur drawled. "Killing innocent lives for a bit of fun?"

"Gods no, weren't you _listening_?!" Oland bunched his fists together. "I needed to get more power to defeat Emrys, and she is helping me." Behind him, the bushes rustled, and out came three large black…dog-things. Neither Merlin nor Arthur knew what they were, but they definitely weren't normal. Their fur looked as though it were wispy; as if it were made of shadows.

"See, your mother was right," Oland turned to the frozen warlock. "The creatures of the water, she called them 'Mers', right, Merlin? Well, if you capture one, they'll grant you a wish. It took years, but I finally got one." Oland looked down at the siren as one would look upon a prized possession. "Can you believe that she's been hiding in that lake for years? Only feeding on occasion, and _only_ for survival."

"Let me guess," Merlin said venomously. "You wished to take control over her," Oland nodded, "And then you wished for those…dog things."

"Hell hounds," the sorcerer corrected. "They're called hell hounds. And yes, you're quite right, Merlin. Want to know why?" Oland didn't give either of them a chance to speak. "Because nothing can withstand a hell hounds claws. Once I find Emrys, he shall be prey to my pets, but I won't let them kill him, oh no. After they've finished with their chew toy, I shall burn Emrys."

Merlin felt sick, hearing the plans Oland had for him. No wonder his magic reacted so strongly against him.

Turning to Arthur, Oland smiled. "You see, your highness? We're not so different in that one aspect. We both want to see Emrys on fire."

However, Arthur shook his head, a look of horror on his face. "We are nothing alike. I would never do that to a man, sorcerer or not."

"But remember, Emrys isn't a man. He's just like this siren. A creature of the Old Religion."

Arthur looked Oland dead in the eyes. He was still frozen, but for that one second, Oland looked slightly freighted and Merlin felt hope blossom in his chest.

"I would never do that to any_one_ or any_thing_. You, Oland, are a sick man who needs to be stopped."

Scratching his chin, Oland seemed to regard Arthur's words carefully. "I suppose you're right…" He trailed off, looking back at his pets. He turned back to his captives, a wicked smile alighting his face. "But you won't be the ones to stop me."

Confusion flickered on Arthur's face, but it dawned on him soon enough.

"Go back to the lake," Oland command of his siren. "And you two," he turned to his hell hounds and looked at them for a moment. He turned to face the King and secret warlock. "Attack them."

Then, with a golden flash of his eyes, Oland was gone.

If only the danger was too.

The hell hounds stalked forward slowly, both of them growling their own chilling tune.

And of course _now _Merlin found the right spell.

"Arthur," he said slowly, quietly. "Arthur do you trust me?"

"Merlin, I don't think that really matter at the-"

"_Arthur_. Do you trust me?"

"I…Yes. I trust you, Merlin. You know that."

Swallowing his fear, Merlin tried to smile. "Yes. Good…That's good." He took a deep breath. The hell hounds had stopped moving. They were getting ready to pounce.

"Arthur," Merlin spoke once again, thinking: _For the last time… _"Arthur, I'm so sorry."

If he hadn't been frozen, the King would've looked at his friend in pure bewilderment. "For what?"

But Merlin never got to answer because that was when the hell hounds pounced.

Time seemed to slow down. Arthur had experienced this feeling before, countless times. Always when he knew death was coming.

…Except this time…this time he didn't have his aberrant protector. He didn't have Emrys.

Watching your death come at you in slow motion was always nauseating, but strangely soothing at the same time. You were going to die and there was no way around that, so you might as well accept that. Arthur began to close his eyes, not really wanting to see himself, or Merlin, being torn to shreds. Before he managed to, though, he felt himself being pulled back. Not only that, he was able to move again! (He wasn't sure how he knew that since he had yet to actually move his body, but Arthur was sure the spell had broken. Somehow.)

Turning his head –yes, the enchantment _had _been severed!– to look at Merlin, Arthur's ecstasy dropped. Merlin was looking at him, one hand splayed towards Arthur, the other reaching for the roof. The hell hounds were still pouncing, pouncing right toward Merlin. Arthur was useless, as he was pulled back by a powerful force.

He could only watch as the hounds attacked his friend; as the rocky ceiling fell atop all four of them, covering them entirely and blocking the exit to the cave.

Arthur could only watch as his friend's eyes swirled bright with gold.


	5. Chapter 5

**See bottom for the rough translation of the spells.**

* * *

Arthur was in such shock, he couldn't register that he'd finally stopped moving. Gently, he was placed onto the ground, but he only realized this as his weak knees hit the stony floor, unable to hold his weight.

Merlin just used magic.

_Merlin _just used magic.

He was a sorcerer.

A _sorcerer_.

…And he had just saved Arthur's life, by taking his own.

It could've have been hours that Arthur kneeled on the hard floor of the cave, but time didn't seem to matter to the King anymore. All he could do was replay the events that happened not so long ago.

"_Arthur. Do you trust me?" _

Arthur recalled Merlin's eyes looking desperate. He sounded so uncertain. Arthur had felt a sharp pain in his chest as he realized that Merlin wasn't completely sure if Arthur actually trusted him. After all these years, even despite the teasing, shouldn't Merlin have known that Arthur trusted him with everything? Not just his life, but his kingdom, his _wife…_even his very soul.

"_Arthur, I'm so sorry." _

The look of regret on his friend's was so prominent, so severe, that even thinking back on it, Arthur felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. The raw emotion that had been on Merlin's face had confused Arthur…and frightened him. He'd never seen such naked sentiment on his friend's face before. Not to such an intensity at least.

And then Arthur saw the eyes. His eyes. Arthur saw his eyes. They were gold. Merlin's blue eyes had been replaced by golden orbs. How was it possible that the color of Merlin's eyes had looked _alive_? The golden swirls of light themselves seemed to have life in Merlin's soon-to-be-lifeless eyes.

The reality hit Arthur hard, as he thought about those golden eyes.

Merlin saved Arthur. He saved him. Using magic, Merlin saved the king of a city that penalizes magic with death. Hangings, burnings, chop-

Burnings.

Oh gods.

Burning.

Arthur had said…and Merlin had been right there…

Oh _gods_.

He felt sick. The thought of Merlin hanging limply by his neck, or having no neck at all, or even being burnt to a crisp… Gods, there wasn't an idea more foul – unless you added Guinevere's name along with Merlin's.

Even knowing what the price was, Merlin had stayed in Camelot. That _idiot_! He was a _sorcerer_ and he stayed in the _worst place_ for him to be!

…Yet, he befriended so many people. He brought light back into the castle with his smile from the moment he stepped onto Camelot's land, and, somehow, he had even managed to wriggle past Arthur's stone-cold façade. He had become a dear friend; Arthur's _best friend_.

But had it all been an act? Was Merlin just like all the other sorcerers who've tried to kill–

Arthur immediately stopped that train of thought. There was no way Merlin was like that. Not _Merlin_. It wasn't him. It wasn't. And yes, Arthur calls Merlin an idiot daily, but not even _he _would be dumb enough to save Arthur rather than himself if he were actually trying to kill the King.

Up ahead, some of the rocks jostled.

Automatically, Arthur leapt to his feet and he found himself praying that it was Merlin. That he was alive. It wasn't until there was proof that he might still be breathing that Arthur realized how desperately he didn't want Merlin to be dead. How he actually thought that he was…

Arthur ran to the blockade, vaguely taking notice of the small blue orb of light that guided his path; that had been with him during his musings. Dropping to his knees, which were really starting to hurt, and ignoring the pain, Arthur began to remove the rocks, carefully yet hastily.

Unsure as to where the place where the rocks originally had been trembling was, Arthur picked a random spot, hoping luck was on his side. He slowly, carefully extracted the rubble with his shaking hands.

Removing a particularly heavy stone, revealed what Arthur had been searching for. He nearly dropped the boulder on his foot at the shock of finding him.

Merlin was lying prone, his left arm loosely covering his head, which was facing towards the right side of the cave. He was covered in lacerations, all of them bleeding, but what surprised Arthur was the ball of blue light floating in his right hand, which was partially covered by Merlin's (blood-matted) hair since his right arm was lying right above his head. Looking to his left, Arthur finally took notice of the similar ball of light floating beside him, which he now realized had been with him practically the entire time.

Arthur's memory reminded him of another time he saw that same blue orb, but he pushed the thought away. He could reminisce and ask questions later, _after _Merlin was completely out of the rubble; completely safe.

However, Arthur wasn't entirely sure how to get the rest of him out. Only the upper half of Merlin's torso could be seen.

"Merlin?" Arthur called quietly. He hoped that the ball of light meant he was still alive. "Merlin," Arthur repeated, shaking his friend's arm.

There was no response.

"Dammit," he muttered. Taking a deep breath, the King began removing the rocks again, trying to find a way to do so without more of the ceiling caving in. After extracting a frustratingly, tightly wedged piece of rock, the boulders began to quiver again.

The good news was that the ceiling wasn't collapsing…

…the bad news was that one of the hell hounds had survived.

(The fact that that Oland said that a hall hound was nearly indestructible and yet Merlin managed to kill one of them with his magic was not lost on Arthur.)

The force that the hound used to jump out from the rubble, had Arthur falling onto his arse painfully (but at least it wasn't his knees).

Growling, the hell hound scrutinized Arthur, its black eyes seeming to stare right into his soul. Arthur went to reach for his sword, only to remember that it had been in his hands when the force –when _Merlin_– pushed him away from the collapsing ceiling and toward the back of the tunnel, where he had let it clatter to the ground – not that he noticed the sound.

_Well, shite._

If he could only get to his sword… Lure it away from Merlin and into a different tunnel, then maybe Arthur could–

The hell hound pounced.

It was only because the hound gave him a warning-pounce that Arthur survived. He yelped and scrambled backwards, because he was still foolishly sitting on the ground, as he avoided the sheathed claws. Clambering to his feet, Arthur faced the giant dog.

"Nice… Nice doggy…" he said cautiously.

The hell hound snarled, as if he had actually understood Arthur and hated being called "doggy" – or maybe he didn't like being called "nice". Arthur gulped as he watched the hound unsheathe his claws and scrape at the ground, refining his already razor-sharp nails. Taking small steps back, Arthur felt as if he were a mouse caught in a cat's claws. Most cats tended to play with their food, and that was exactly what this beast was doing – only, its food was _Arthur_.

The hell hound swaggered forward, almost tauntingly. Arthur continued taking small steps back, but he knew the beast would catch up to him soon. Very soon.

When the hell hound crouched down, Arthur knew this was the end. There would be no warning pounce this time. Bracing himself as best he could, the King found himself wishing to be back in his wife's loving arms –and feel her hot, passionate kisses on his lips– with an injury-free Merlin by his side, laughing and poking at him for being so sentimental.

A small, pained voice came from behind the hound. Arthur's eyes popped opened just in time to see the hell hound shudder, its smoky fur standing on end.

"_Í edhwierft ðú áhwonan ðú cwoni_."

Even though he didn't understand what the voice had said, Arthur had still heard it, and he knew it whose voice it was, even if it did sound scratchy and weak.

It was Merlin's.

The hell hound swerved its head away from Arthur and onto the injured young man lying on the floor. Arthur's own eyes wondered to his friend, hoping he knew what he was doing.

Merlin looked bad. He barely had the strength to support his weight on his one elbow, which was what he was doing. His right arm was reaching out in front of him, toward the beast; his golden eyes were fading back to blue. What sickened Arthur wasn't Merlin's eyes though. It was the angle in which Merlin's leg, now visible, lied. It was obviously broken, and Arthur couldn't imagine the pain his friend had to be in right now, especially on top of the profusely bleeding gashes, broken and/or shattered ribs, and gods-only-know what else that might be ailing him.

This time, the hell hound stalked his way toward Merlin, leaving Arthur alone. It knew there was nothing Arthur could do. Even if the King made a run for his sword, the hound could just pounce on him and tear him to shreds in a blink of an eye, and then go back to calmly pursuing Merlin without breaking a sweat – whether or not the creatures actually perspired wasn't important at the moment.

Arthur was helpless. Again.

_Come on, Merlin_! He found himself silently praying. _Come on…!_

It was with bated breath that Arthur waited for Merlin to do something. Every step, the beast came closer and closer while Merlin looked worse and worse. When Merlin and the hell hound were literally nose-to-nose –the hound had lowered its head to be in line with Merlin's– Arthur thought for sure he was going to be ripped apart, but then the surprising happened.

Using strength Arthur didn't know Merlin possessed, especially in the state he was in, the sorcerer suddenly reached out with both hands and latched onto the hell hound's shadowy fur, their foreheads now fully touching.

"_Í gelógung ðú, hellegást, tó edhwierft tó sé gástcwalu_," he growled, almost with the same menace as the hell hound itself. Merlin's eyes turned gold again, but this time, there was something almost predatory in them. The hound shivered, its whole body flickering in and out of existence, until it finally let out a soul-piercing howl and disintegrated.

Arthur covered his eyes, not knowing what else to do. When he removed his arms and looked around, the room was still bright with the blue orbs, but they were rapidly dimming. Arthur didn't want to think about what that meant.

"Merlin!" he shouted, running toward his friend.

Sliding onto his knees, and once again ignoring the pain, Arthur gingerly picked Merlin, who had lost all his strength and collapsed, up from the ground and gently turned him so that his back was resting against Arthur's chest. The not-so-secret warlock was limp in his King's arms, his head lolling against Arthur's shoulder…but he was breathing. He was still breathing.

"Merlin. Merlin, wake up," Arthur said, trying to make it sound like a command, but it came out more like a frantic plea. "Merlin!"

The named man made a small, quiet mewling noise as he slowly opened his eyes. Arthur only just heard it over the erratic beating of his heart.

"Oh thank the gods," Arthur sighed, his arms tightening ever so slightly around Merlin's waist.

But then Merlin whimpered, and Arthur remembered how badly injured his friend was.

"Gods, sorry! Sorry!" He loosened his grip. "Are you okay?"

Merlin opened his mouth, only to leave it frozen there for a few seconds. Finally, he choked out a strangled, "No." He paused, breathing heavily. Arthur waited for him to find his words – and his breath.

"Why…Why are you…still here?" Merlin's voice shook on the last two words, as if saying them brought him great pain –it probably had– but there was an undertone of bewilderment that could be heard despite the pain.

Arthur frowned. "I'm not going to leave you, Merlin." And _dammit _those were certainly _not _tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. They were _not_.

"But– But the–"

"Magic?" Arthur guessed, his throat going dry even saying the word. Merlin nodded, but instantly stopped as pain filled his entire body.

"You…" Arthur paused because honestly how was he supposed to say this? He needs time to prepare, to get his words right. But he doesn't have time. He doesn't have time because _Merlin is currently dying in your arms are clotpole! Say something!_ "You're my friend, Merlin. My– Well, probably my only true friend. And I'm not going to leave you here to die because of…of a…" Arthur swallows, then just says it. "A silly think like magic can't get ruin the friendship we've been building for so long."

Except it wasn't silly. It was quite the contrary actually; this new-found information was very, very serious. However, Arthur decided that he and Merlin could talk about it later. After they were safely out of the cave, and no one was in jeopardy of dying. Namely Merlin.

"You saved my life," the King said as if it explained everything. In a way, it did. No matter whom it was, if someone saved Arthur's life, he'd repay them anyway possible. In this case, it was returning the favor to a dear friend.

"S'not the first time," his friend murmured quietly. Arthur wondered if Merlin had meant for Arthur to hear him. He also wondered what exactly he meant. If Arthur had the luxury, he'd take the time to ponder what all this meant, but he didn't have extravagances such as time.

Glancing at the blue orb, Arthur's heart contracted at how dim it was. The King was praying it was only Merlin's capability at holding the orb that was diminishing, not his life. Unfortunately, it seemed more like the latter was occurring. Merlin was too pale, he'd lost too much blood, and his breathes were coming in short and ragged. His entire body was quivering.

"Merlin," Arthur tried to keep his voice steady. "Can't you heal yourself?"

Something that might've been a chuckle had it not sounded like a ripping, wet, _dying _sound rippled through Merlin. "Rubbish healer," he murmured. "Always have been."

"Can't you try?" Arthur hoped his voice didn't sound as desperate he thought it did.

"What's the use?" Merlin slurred, his body becoming even limper and his head rolling to rest against Arthur's neck.

Merlin words echoed loudly in his mind and, out of pure frustration, Arthur jolted Merlin's body. Even though the warlock cried out in anguish, Arthur told himself he had to do it.

"What's the use?" Arthur repeated through clenched teeth. "Merlin…" he trailed off, forcing himself to calm down before he hurt his friend even more. When he felt he could speak without shaking the body leaning into him senseless, Arthur pleaded, "Merlin, please. Please try. You need to try."

"I'm a sorcerer."

"Yes, I know. Very good observation about yourself, Merlin. Just…" His throat went dry again. "Heal yourself. You need to heal yourself."

"…I don't want to burn," Merlin whispered quietly. "Please."

His voice was timid. He was terrified, Arthur realized with a jolt. Merlin was terrified, and that wasn't something you ever saw. (And Arthur didn't ever want to see again.)

"You won't," Arthur promised. "Gods, no. I won't let that happen. You won't ever burn. I promise." Pausing, Arthur waited to let that sink into Merlin's mind before pleading, once again, for Merlin to heal himself.

This time, Merlin listened to him. His hand twitched as if Merlin were trying to move it onto his person, but, instead, Merlin simply stared unseeingly at Arthur as his eyes turned bright gold.

Despite his protest at being a "rubbish healer" Merlin managed to eradicate nearly every cut on him. The deeper gashes had shrunk to small, annoying scabs, but that was better than the alternative. When the magic fixed his ribs, Arthur smiled as he watched Merlin take his first deep breath since the ceiling fell, but at the sound of Merlin's broken leg being set, Arthur couldn't help but feel nauseous. He glanced down, wondering how his friend was dealing with it, only to find his eyes closed. Arthur wasn't sure if Merlin was simply asleep or unconscious or maybe he was just concentrating. Before he could deliberate for long, Merlin's magic rushed though _him_, healing him also.

It felt…Honestly, it felt wonderful. It was like a cool wind on a hot day; a friend's hug when you need it the most; the uplifting smile, you receive from those you love. Most of all, it felt pure. It felt _good_.

Knowing he made the right decision took a weight of Arthur's shoulders he didn't realize he had even had. Saving Merlin was the right thing to do. Of course it was. He was good, and his magic was good, and everything was good in this one moment.

Arthur let Merlin sleep, knowing the feeling of goodness wouldn't last long. Sooner or later, they'd have to emerge from the cave and face Oland. Sooner or later, they'd have a long discussion about Merlin's magic.

All that, though, would be _later _rather than _sooner_.

Gently, Arthur manhandled Merlin into a more comfortable position, one where Arthur could also lean against the wall. He watched Merlin's even breathing, the way his eyelids flickered ever-so-slightly, and the peace that seemed to just radiate from his being. Arthur didn't think he'd be able to sleep and he was fine with that, content to just watch his servant sleep and _breathe_, but the adrenaline Arthur had previously had was slowly waning from him. Suddenly, every part of himself felt weightless.

Closing his eyes for a few seconds won't be too bad, right?

x~X~x

Merlin woke up confused. His back was stiff, his leg was aching (actually his whole body was aching, but his leg felt a lot worse), and yet his head was cushioned by something soft. Well, it was soft and hard. Strange paradox, but that was the only description. Then he noticed the loud snoring sound coming from above him.

Slowly, Merlin opened his eyes. The noise was coming from Arthur, who was leaning against a rock wall, fast asleep. The "something-soft-yet-hard" underneath Merlin's head was actually Arthur's thigh.

What on earth happened?

Then it hit Merlin, the feeling resembling being stuck by lightening (which isn't a pleasant feeling – Merlin would know).

Gods.

_Oh gods_.

He knows.

Arthur knows.

Merlin bolted upright, ignoring the aches and pains his body was complaining about. His heart felt as if it were beating a mile a minute.

Because Arthur _knows_. Knows about his magic, and-

Wait, hang on…

Merlin squeezed his shut, pressing his palms into them as the memories continued to resurface.

Arthur had begged, _begged_, Merlin to heal himself. He had wanted Merlin to use his magic. To prevent himself from dying.

And Arthur promised. _"You won't. Gods, no. I won't let that happen. You won't ever burn. I promise."_

His thundering heart began to slow down. Merlin was safe. He was safe because he had Arthur; and Arthur was safe because he had Merlin.

They were safe.

(Remembering the severity of his wounds, Merlin was also thankful – thankful that, for once, he managed to heal himself almost completely and without any further damage. He must remember how he did that.)

The sound of footsteps startled Merlin. His mind raced as he pictured Oland strolling into the cave, looking for his hounds, but discovering that Merlin and Arthur were still alive instead. Merlin had done too much too soon, and while his strength was returning, his magic was weak. He feared what would happen if he tried something major so soon after the ordeal.

He turned to the only other person he could rely on – and who was the only other person in the room.

"Arthur," Merlin hissed. He shook the King's shoulder. "_Arthur_."

"Hmm? What-?"

"Someone's coming."

Arthur's look of confusion faded almost immediately, turning into a look of determination.

"Where's your sword?" Merlin asked.

His friend's face dropped. "It's… Dammit. It's still over there." He pointed toward the sound where the footsteps where echoing from. The corner where the sword was lying, and where the two tunnels met, was shrouded by darkness.

As the sound drew nearer, Merlin strained to gather as much magic as he could; beside him, Arthur was tensing his muscles, getting ready for a fight. The footsteps paused long enough for someone to pick up an object from the ground. From the sound of metal dragging against the floor, it sounded like Excalibur, Arthur's sword. The footsteps continued getting closer; the figure became clearer. Soon it was all too obvious who it was.

Holding the sword in two hands, treating it delicately, was one of the biggest surprises in Merlin's life – and that's saying something since it is _Merlin's _life after all.

"Syra?"

x~X~x

…_Earlier that day…_

Gwaine shivered as Leon and his group came into view. He didn't shiver because he was scared. Oh no, Gwaine never gets scared. But the forest he was currently standing in was slightly…unnerving. _Slightly_.

"Found anything?" Leon asked as soon as he was close enough.

Shaking his head, Gwaine replied heavily, "No, nothing. Not even a ripple."

"The only thing we acquired was Rion," Leon admitted reluctantly.

The men went quiet, glancing around at the darkened woods. Suddenly, Aldrich's voice filled the silence.

"Over here!" he cried.

_Great_, Gwaine thought. _We're running even _further_ into the forest_.

The scene they found was not pleasant. The lake was huge and a part of it, they discovered, flowed into the forest. There, resting peacefully against the wet soil, were skeletons. Some were littered on the forest floor, some were only partially in the water, and some were completely submerged. It wasn't whole skeletons though; there were pieces of body parts, some still with torn flesh hanging on them, scattered everywhere. The bones that were clean had bite marks on them. Gwaine seriously hoped they weren't eaten alive. Unfortunately, that wasn't the worse part.

The part that made Gwaine, and everyone else around him, gag was the stench emitting from the whole, uneaten human bodies. They were tied to several trees, a few of them too far from the lake for the creature to have done it. It was a terrible, inhumane thing to do to someone –to _anyone_– but it proved to be a very important piece of evidence.

"Someone's helping it," Oswin choked out, his voice horrified.

"Or maybe it's helping someone," Wayne countered without the usual bitterness normally attached to his words.

Gwaine swallowed, a mistake because now the stench was in his throat, and said darkly (if not a bit hoarsely), "I think we found a clue, Leon."

Not even bothering to call him out on his sarcasm, Leon nodded stiffly, "I think you're right."

"We should report this to Arthur right away," Rion announced, eager to leave the foul place. Everyone else agreed with him.

"Yes, we should," Leon said, taking a step back, then another. "But unfortunately, two must stay behind and watch this area. Should the creature come back, we need to know as much as we can about it."

Knowing one of the men had to be either him or Leon, Gwaine offered himself as a sacrifice. "Observing a creepy and deadly creature? Eh, why not."

"Are you sure, Gwaine?" Leon asked.

_No, I'm not sure. I'm just a bloody idiot._ "Yes, I'm sure. Besides, the town people know you better, and if anyone has anything to say, you'll be able to get it out of them."

"Alright," Leon answered, looking extremely relived.

_The bastard_, Gwaine thought. Out loud, he cheerfully asked, "Anyone care to join me?" knowing full-well no one really would.

After much hesitation, Denton finally stepped up. "I- I will."

Grinning, Gwaine clapped his new companion on the back. "Good lad! Afterwards, we go to the tavern and drink this night away. It'll be on me."

The promise of mead did nothing to quell the look of nauseous fear on Denton's face. Gwaine didn't think it would. With the smell of rotting flesh suffocating him, even _he _didn't want anything from the tavern, including mead.

x~X~x

Upon arriving back into the village, Leon immediately set out to find his King while the other knights went to get a room – and hopefully a warm bath. He first went to the young boy's house…Only to discover Arthur wasn't there. Neither was Merlin.

_Not so surprising_, Leon reminded himself. _No need to get in a panic._

For the next few hours, Sir Leon wondered the (surprisingly large) village, asking the people if they'd seen their King. Some said no; some said yes, but only when he first arrived. None had seen him since exiting the young boy's, Eaton's, home. He had begun to lose hope as the sun had faded, but then he struck luck.

"Oh yes," a girl said somewhat shyly. She was holding a young child, possibly her brother, with twins pairs of eyes belonging to a young boy and girl who were hiding at her feet. There was a crown of flowers on her head. "I saw them; they were following some man out toward the woods."

"Do you know why?" he inquired.

The girl shook her head, her cheeks turning a light shade of red. "I'm afraid I do not, sir knight."

Trying to hide his disappointment, Leon thanked her, bid her ado, and kissed her hand. The children around her giggled.

Leon began walking toward the inn, wondering whether he should go out and search for his King and Merlin. In the end, he decided against it, knowing that the two always came out alive no matter what the situation –_how _they managed to do that, especially with Merlin around was always a mystery to Leon– and he figured, if they did run into trouble, Gwaine and Denton were also in the woods, so all should be fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine.

He repeated that to himself all night, not really believing a word of it.

* * *

_**~Í edhwierft ðú áhwonan ðú cwoni**_**…I return you from whence you came**

_**~Í gelógung ðú, hellegást, tó edhwierft tó **__**sé**__**gástcwalu**_**…I command you, spirit of hell, to return to the ****pains of hell****.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm going to be honest. I'm actually not sure how I feel about the beginning of this chapter. I half-feel like Arthur is OOC, but I also half-feel like he might actually react this way given the circumstances. This was quite frustrating to write and edit since I was fighting myself along the way. I hope you don't find it too crazy XP**

* * *

Saying he felt _shocked _would be a major understatement. The second person he thought would never show up here, in this dingy cave, would be Syra (the first being Gwen) and yet here she was. Right down to her perfect braid and remarkably pristine dress that was a lovely shade of dark green.

"What-? How-?" Merlin scrambled to his feet, only to discover all the air had suddenly disappeared from his lungs and his injured leg wouldn't support him properly and was sending numbing jolts from his knee down to his toes. He winced when he shifted his weight, trying to find a comfortable position, but eventually ended up leaning heavily on the wall. Beside him, he saw Arthur also rushing to get to his feet, but his face didn't betray any pain and he didn't stumble or was in need of any support in the slightest. That prat.

"What are _you _doing here?" Arthur asked, his eyes darting between his sword and the girl's pale face.

Holding Excalibur our further, still balancing the blade on her two palms so that the King may take it back, Syra looked at the two men sheepishly. "I, um… I followed you."

"You _what_?" Arthur nearly shouted, incredulously. "Do you realize how much danger you put yourself in?"

"Well not as much as you two," she snapped right back. "You're lucky neither of you are dead!"

Arthur's eyes darted to over to Merlin and he finally noticed how he was using the wall to support himself. Arthur didn't comment on it, but _something_ flashed in his eyes as he took in the sorcerer's stance. (Was it Merlin's imagination, or had it actually been concern that made a brief appearance in Arthur's eyes? It had to be his imagination. Arthur _never _showed concern for anyone except Gwen…right?) When he turned his eyes back to Syra less than a second later, Arthur's eyes were devoid of concern –or whatever it was– and replaced with a cautiously guarded gaze as he answered, "Yes. We're very lucky…"

Syra turned to Merlin. "And you-" she took a step closer to him and promptly smacked the back of his head, ignoring his rather loud _OW! _and either didn't notice or ignored his wobbling legs, which left it up to Arthur to help Merlin find his balance again "-stop being so damn suicidal! I might've gotten lost in the caves, but I could still _hear you_."

"Hear-? So you know?" the King asked quickly, wondering if Merlin's life was in danger again.

"Yes. And it's about time you did too!"

"Wait, hold on." Arthur placed a hand in front of him, palm facing toward Syra. He frowned as his brain processed what she said. When it finally clicked –only a few short seconds later, Arthur might add– he turned to face Merlin, outraged and betrayed. "You told _her _before you even _thought_ about telling me?"

"Arthur-"

"No!" the King shouted. "Don't 'Arthur' me! Were you ever going to tell me about your magic? That you studied it? That you've been _saving_ me with it? Merlin, were you just going to stay quiet about it for the rest of our lives?"

"Of course not!" Merlin managed to say. "But Arthur, it's not that-"

"Simple? It's not that simple?" Rolling his eyes, Arthur continued to let his anger boil. He might be grateful (read: thrilled and relieved) that his manservant (read: best friend) is no longer about to die, but that doesn't erase the fact that _Merlin was a sorcerer_. One that saved his life and one that is _not _going to die because of it, but still, a sorcerer nonetheless.

"Obviously it's not that simple, Merlin! I'm the King of a land who declares magic evil! And it has a laws stating any practitioners of magic are sentenced to die!" Arthur noted Merlin's flinch with a heavy and pained heart. "But I thought you were my friend! Didn't you trust me?"

"Yes, I did! I do, I still do!" Merlin the Sorcerer shouted back, looking as though he was desperately trying not to cry. "And I wanted too! I really did, but Arthur, when could I have told you? All the times I nearly did, we were attacked by something _magical_. And when you were Prince, you would've been obligated to tell your father!"

"Not if I thought he was wrong!" Arthur and Merlin were standing mere inches apart now. It would've been a bit more dramatic if Merlin wasn't being supported by Arthur himself, which might account to why they're almost nose-to-nose. "And I did! You know I didn't completely agree with him! I could've protected you!"

"And end up being in even more danger!" Merlin countered.

"What the hell does that mean?!"

"Because everyone that knows of my magic are always being put in danger!"

"I can handle myself!"

"Gaius thought that too until he was kidnapped and _tortured_!"

Arthur fell silent. He watched Merlin wide-eyed as he breathed heavily in and out. They both were.

"I just… Almost everyone that found out died," Merlin finally said, no longer shouting. His eyes darting from Arthur's face to the floor and back to Arthur's face. "And I just… I was just scared, okay? I was scared."

The room was still and quiet as Merlin's words began sinking in. After waiting a few moments, and unsure of what else to do, Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder and squeezed in a (hopefully) reassuring manner. When he looked up, Arthur provided his friend a tentative smile, earning his a shaky exhale and a smile back. There was silence as the two friends looked at each other, already rebuilding their friendship –which wasn't as broken as Arthur might've made it out to be– in that one moment.

Both of them jumped as someone's voice broke the silence.

"Okay, well now that _that's_ over with, can we get back to the topic at hand? Oland? Remember him?"

"Um, yeah," Merlin let out a short breathless and shaky bout of laughter as he cast a quick glance at Syra. "She's about as good with sentiments as you are," he told Arthur.

Syra put her hands on her narrow hips. "Excuse me, I am _very _good with being sentimental. Remember last night? …Or wait. Is that sexual?" she asked, tilting her head to one side, genuine confusion rising on her face.

Sometimes Merlin found her lack of understanding human-related things adorable and quirky, but right now, he found it absolutely mortifying. Burying his face into his hands, after uttering a very undignified and humiliating squeaking noise, Merlin felt heat rising up his neck one again. Arthur's laughter did not help in the slightest – though it was semi-nice to hear him laugh, knowing that his mirth meant that their friendship wasn't completely shattered.

"Oh, it doesn't matter." He was still covering his head, but Merlin knew Syra waved her hand dismissively at her own statement. "What matters is stopping Oland and that thing he calls a siren. Luckily, I know just how to do that."

"Wouldn't she be stopped anyway? If we kill Oland, I mean," Arthur asked. He jabbed Merlin in the ribs so lightly the warlock wasn't entirely sure whether or not the sensation he felt was real. Slowly he looked up. Arthur smirked at him, glancing out of the corners of his eye, but did nothing more.

"No." Syra shook her head. "All sirens have a memento, something that keeps them tied to the area they reside in. It's almost like their life-force. "

Merlin looked at her curiously, wondering if it still applied to her since she was no longer a full-fledged siren.

"How do you know that?"

Biting her lip, Syra took a deep breath, looking uncomfortably shy. "You asked Merlin why he told me before you. Well, he didn't. Tell me. I already knew who he was simply by touching him."

Arthur looked at Merlin curiously, then back to the girl in front of him. "How?"

"Maybe we should take this outsi-"

"No, Merlin," the King stated firmly. "I don't want any more secrets or distraction. Anything relevant to _right now_ has to be said; everything else can wait, but I need some answers now."

Opening his mouth –to protest or to agree or to ask if Arthur thought there were still secretes being kept from him, which, unfortunately, there were; Merlin wasn't sure– the warlock paused and then closed it again, nodding his understandment. They turned back to face Syra, who was now sitting on the ground, her legs tucked underneath her. Arthur looked surprised, but Merlin, remembering the story, extracted himself from Arthur's steadying grasp and sat down too – which felt really good since his leg was now, more or less, completely numb and very stiff.

After a moment, Arthur moved to sit down as well.

"Before I say anything, it might be best to say Merlin already knows this story, and um… Well, you just said no more secretes Arthur, and for this story, you kinda need to know that…" she trailed off, looking at Merlin, her eyes soft. "You should be the one to tell him."

"Tell me what?" Arthur looked at Merlin expectantly. When he didn't say anything at first, Arthur continued. "You know, we might have the rest of the night, but it's going to be morning eventually and I doubt either Oland or that siren-thing will be silent for long."

Bringing one of his knees to his chest, because the other one hurt to bend it so, Merlin finally spoke, his voice slow and quiet while his eyes were fixated on the ground. "You asked why I studied it. Magic. Why I studied magic. I- Arthur, I didn't do it because I wanted to learn it; I did it because I needed to have control over it. You see," the warlock took up his courage and faced his friend, "I was _born _using magic. My mum said I did it since day one. I've always known I was different than other sorcerers, but it wasn't until I met Kilgharrah, and Mordred, that I knew exactly _how _different I was."

Arthur wanted to ask who Kilgharrah was and how the young Druid boy –he remembered him well…and remembered how _good_ Morgana had been back then– fit into all this, but if Merlin didn't explain, that just meant Arthur would be able to ask later. And he _would_ ask later.

"Mordred was the first one to call me…" Merlin trailed off, his face twisting as he thought about how he wanted to say his next words. Exhaling slowly, he tried again. "The Druids speak of the Once and Future King and Emrys. You're that King and-"

"Gods, you're Emrys aren't you?" Arthur blurted. He didn't sound appalled by the thought…but he wasn't exactly singing a happy tune to it either.

Merlin was caught between two emotions: relieved he didn't actually have to say the words aloud, and terrified at the thoughts going through Arthur's head. Needless to say, when the King finally did speak, it wasn't what the warlock thought he'd say.

"We can't let Oland know."

"Well, yeah. He'd try to use my power-"

Arthur's eyes darkened. "He'd try to _kill you_, you mean."

His throat went dry at the reminder of what Oland planned for him. He looked away from Arthur's face. "Yeah. That too."

For a moment, Arthur only watched Merlin, his eyes still dark at the thought of Oland. Then, his mood shifted.

"So, you're the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth?" he asked, trying to sound blasé, but his nervous laughter betrayed him.

"Yes, well um," Merlin looked down at the ground, his knee still closely hugging his chest. "Kilgharrah would always say 'warlock'."

"Which was why I knew who he was," Syra cut in. The two men looked at her, once again forgetting she was there. "I was cursed," she continued, "A long time ago, to be the servant of those with the greatest power. That didn't only mean sorcerers, mind you," she quickly clarified to Arthur.

"The curse was only related to power in general, not just magical power. Had Merlin not been in your court, your father's when I first arrived, I might've attached to your father, and then, once you reached your destiny of being the Once and Future King, I definitely would've attached to you. However, since Merlin _was _there, all I needed to do was touch his skin and he immediately became my new Master."

Merlin grimaced at that thought. He didn't want to be Syra's, or anyone's, Master then, and he still doesn't want to now. (A horrible shudder went through him as he remembered Oland saying how some of the Druids declared Emrys to be a king or, even worse, a god. The feeling of just plain _wrongness _to hear those words defining him was too great to describe. He was Merlin. Nothing more, nothing less.)

"Why were you cursed? Who cursed you?"

Merlin was pleased that Arthur sounded appalled by the notion.

"It's… It's a long story," Syra said softly. "One that doesn't matter at the moment."

Arthur turned to Merlin, asking a silent question in his eyes.

"Don't look at me, mate," he replied, somewhat angrily. "I don't know either; she still has yet to tell me."

"I will, though. I promise," Syra restated for nearly the thousandth time. "The witch who cursed me said that I'd only be free once I found the most powerful being alive. Only then could I be my true self again."

"Your…true self?" Arthur repeated nervously. "And your true self is what exactly?"

Syra's fingers were playing with the edges of her dress anxiously, but that didn't stop her from looking the King right in the eye and saying, "A siren."

The reaction was immediate as he yelped, "_WHAT_?" and scrambled backwards.

"Arthur, it's okay," Merlin said quickly. "She was cursed, remember? She's human."

"Mostly."

"_MOSTLY_?" Arthur shouted.

Merlin glared at his lover. "Not helping."

She shrugged. "It's the truth." Looking at Arthur, who was feeling very overwhelmed at the moment, she said matter-of-factly: "I don't eat human flesh anymore and even the thought of it sickens me, but whenever I touch unpurified water, I look like my true self."

"She grows a tail," Merlin clarified. "_Ouch_," he said at Syra swatted his arm. (It didn't really hurt; it was just a way to show his unappreciation at getting slapped on the arm.)

"Oh my gods," Arthur muttered, holding his head. "I think I need a drink."

"It's a lot to take in, I'm sorry about that," Merlin said, looking genuinely apologetic. He was nervous too; how would Arthur take in the news? He did relatively okay about the magic, but what about Syra?

There was silence as Arthur started massaging his temples, wondering what the hell he had gotten into and why he hadn't tried to kill the two other people, knowing that Camelot's laws required him too.

(He knew the reason why –Merlin had proved himself to still be trustworthy so he was giving his girlfriend a chance to also– but that knowledge only made his headache worse. Because _Merlin _had a _girlfriend_. Of _all_ the people! Merlin!)

"Just so it's clear," Syra piped up cautiously, "I'm still cursed. Merlin hasn't reversed it."

"And neither of us plan for me to," Merlin added.

Looking at them, and continuing to massage his head, Arthur waited for a few minutes as he (tried to) process all the new-found information.

"Okay, okay," Arthur rubbed his face in the same action one would use to wash their face in a stream, "I'm good." He took a deep breath. "So," he said, making his way back to the couple. "So, um…"

There was a tense silence as Arthur's eyes kept darting to Syra. Merlin knew the look. He was calculating. He was probably trying to figure out why she was cursed.

"You didn't…" he began. "You didn't eat a sorcerer's lover or something, did you?"

"…No."

Merlin gasped. "Yes! You did!" he exclaimed, pointing at the girl.

"I did not eat her lover!" Syra snapped, rising a little on her knees. She glared at Merlin, who glared right back. Finally, she sighed and slumped back down. "It was her son," she mumbled.

"…I can't believe I'm having this conversation," Arthur said dazed.

"Me neither. How about we change the subject to our plan?"

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a look. Merlin was not going to let Syra forget this, and Arthur, for his part, was not going to ever be left our again. Were all conversations regarding magical things this interesting? A little disgusting, sure, but definitely way more fascinating than politics and grain shortages.

"Okay then…" Arthur said. "What's this plan of yours?"

Syra grinned brightly, forgetting about their previous topic of interest, and looked at Merlin deviously.

"Oh, I'm not going to like this, am I?"

x~X~x

…_Earlier that day…_

The terrified and confused faces on the annoying king and brat servant were phenomenal. The shock on King Arthur's face could've lasted Oland a thousand life-times of pleasure. However, the grim, unsurprised look that the manservant, Merlin, held on his visage had been slightly…unsettling. It was almost as if he had suspected Oland from the beginning – but that was impossible of course. Oland knew he had been careful. He might've slipped up marginally, but if the _King _didn't realize his true identity and purpose, then a mere _servant_ shouldn't have suspected a single thing!

But it didn't really matter now. They were both dead, or soon would be, and the servant-boy had a look of pure fear on his face that was enough to last Oland a thousand life-times of pleasure too.

Magically appearing in his room at the inn, Oland looked around cautiously. Satisfied no one was in the room –as if they could've gotten past his charms and spells; Oland scoffs at the thought– the sorcerer proceeded to partake in a victory dance. He whooped and hollered, knowing no one would be able to hear him.

He was going to do it. He was _actually_ going to do it. Oland, a simple sorcerer from a non-Druid sorcerer family, was going to defeat the Emrys!

_I'll find you, Emrys_, he thought, throwing himself onto his bed. _And when I do, you'll be sorry you ever betrayed us._

He thought back to his family, his mother, father, and brother. They died in the Purge and they were avenged. But then there were others, so many others, who died after the Purge. Whose lives should've been saved by Emrys, the supposed savior of magic. Where was he though? Not helping his kind, that's for sure. That's why Oland is doing this. Because Emrys wasn't doing his job; wasn't saving the people who had friends and family and loved ones. That wasn't going to happen anymore. Arthur is dead, soon Emrys will be dead, and Oland will have the power. No longer will his people suffer or hide in fear.

Before drifting into unconsciousness, Oland thought back to the lake, and the egg that lay on its watery bottom. Soon the egg will hatch. Soon all the village-people will be dead. Soon Oland will have more power than Emrys.

The energy behind hundreds of innocent souls will give Oland the boost he needs. With those souls at his disposal, he will be unstoppable. Who knew of the power a human soul possessed?

Oland did.

x~X~x

_...Back to our boys and Syra…_

"That is a terrible plan," Merlin argued.

"It's the only one that'll work!" Syra countered.

"Couldn't you just bring her memento-tying-thing to the surface so I can destroy it _up here_?"

"No, it _must _be underwater. And besides, I wouldn't be able to touch it."

"What if I refuse to do it?"

Syra grimaced. "Then she will be stuck in her perpetual dying-yet-still-alive state until she starved to death since the villagers will probably never come near the lake again."

Merlin remained silent, glaring stonily at Syra. She simply stared back.

"And this is the _only _way?" he asked, knowing the answer, but needing to make sure anyway.

"Yes."

"You're absolutely positive?"

"_Yes_, Merlin. How many times must I say that? Besides, it'll be quick and easy. We go in, I locate it, you destroy it, and then we come up."

"And we have to do this before stopping Oland because…?"

"The sooner the better."

Merlin scowled, not liking that answer in the slightest.

Beside him, Arthur laughed and clapped his shoulder. "Cheer up, mate. It could be fun."

"Would _you _want to do it?" Merlin asked pointedly.

"Well… Not really."

Seeming satisfied with that answer, Merlin gave a short, brief nod. "That's what I thought."

"Oh, it's not going to be so bad," Syra said, her voice sounded utterly too cheerfully and pleased. "And it'll wear off pretty quickly once we're done."

"Promise?"

Morphing her face into a faked hurt expression, she asked, "Don't you trust me?" Merlin didn't answer, but she wasn't bothered. In fact, her grin grew wider.

"I've always wondered what you'd look like with a tail."


	7. Chapter 7

**Interesting Fact: Guess what I found out? If you have a (non-severe) concussion, it's okay to get some sleep! I don't think people back then knew that, but I didn't either! Lol **

**Here's where I found it (remove spaces): www . uamshealth ? id = 10724 & sid = 1**

"Shh! Did you hear something?"

Denton quieted down, straining his ears for any noise. It was the middle of the night and it had been so silent that the knight-in-training had almost fallen asleep as he sat against the tree. It didn't help that the new moon was bright and alluring and beautiful.

"I don't-"

Then he heard it. A soft noise, but undoubtedly one made by slowly gliding through water. He stood up quickly.

"Do you think it's the creature?" Denton asked, trying to step away from the lake as quietly as possible.

"I'm not sure," Gwaine answered, doing the same actions of his companion. "Let's not find out though, yeah?"

Nodding vigorously, the younger man continued stepping backwards until he reached a patch of moonlit grass. As his armor glistened, all hell broke loose.

x~X~x

The scream wasn't very far from them, but it was loud enough to be heard for miles.

Arthur stood up immediately. "What was that?"

"It sounded like Denton," Merlin murmured as he struggled to stand. He turned to Syra, about to ask a question, but she was shaking her head, already on her feet.

"It wasn't the siren. You don't scream when a siren attacks you."

Arthur turned his head sharply. "But what if it wasn't attacking you, but someone else?"

She didn't answer.

"We should go. Now." It wasn't a question; it was a demand.

Straightening himself as best he could, Merlin went to stand by his King. "Lead the way."

Instantly, Arthur took off running with Merlin close at his heels and Syra following only a few feet away. They followed the direction of the scream, and the closer they got, the more noises could be heard. Fighting. Someone was definitely fighting something.

They kept running and what had felt like ages to get to the cave was reduced to minutes. The lake was still pretty far off, but the creature was already visible.

It wasn't a siren.

The thing had tentacles, not a tail, and it was enormous. At least, Merlin assumed it was enormous; all that could be seen were –twelve? fifteen?– long, slimy limbs. The rest of its body was hiding away under the dark waters of the siren-infested lake.

There was only one man engaging in combat against the thing, and he was good. The man dodged the tentacles only to turn swiftly around to sever it completely. Unfortunately, the more tentacles he cut, the more appendages appeared.

"That's Gwaine," Merlin said breathlessly, still running after Arthur.

"But what is that?" Arthur asked just as breathlessly.

Behind them, they heard a frantic cry of: "Stop!"

Neither man complied at first (the thought _Never abandon someone in danger! _filling both their minds), but after the third cry, Merlin and Arthur finally listened.

"Syra, what? Gwaine-"

"That's a kraken, Merlin," Syra panted. "It likes shiny things."

"Is that really so important that we had to stop for you to tell us?" Arthur asked, furious at the waste of time and loss of momentum.

"Yes!" she shout-panted. Then Merlin understood.

"Arthur! Your armor!" Without wasting a second, he began to strip the King of his metal protection.

"Merlin! What are you-"

"It's shiny!" he cried, his nimble fingers already almost done, his magic unconsciously aiding him in the task.

"It'll drag you underwater!" Syra added.

By the time Arthur understood, he was already divulged of the silver armor.

"Oh."

"Yeah. _Oh_," Merlin repeated breathlessly, grinning at Arthur's confused and slightly dazed expression. "Now come on, we need help Gwaine!"

Instead of reminding Merlin just _who _is supposed to be giving orders, Arthur gave a curt nod and followed without a word, gripping his sword tightly. Syra huffed out her annoyance (she hated running with a passion; she preferred her tail any day) but followed the two men toward the lake nonetheless.

Gwaine, still fighting the kraken alone and in shiny armor, never noticed the three people coming to be his backup. He didn't even notice the lone tentacle, sneaking up behind him, but his rescuers did.

"Gwaine!" Merlin and Arthur shouted simultaneously.

Unfortunately, their shouting caused the named man to lose his concentration, the tentacle slamming him into a nearby tree and knocking him unconscious. Fortunately, he wasn't dragged into his watery grave, but, unfortunately, that was because the tentacles were now solely focused on the three newcomers.

"Duck!" Syra shouted, rather unnecessarily, as one of the powerful tentacles swiped over their heads.

The next few minutes, consisted much of the previous action Gwaine had been doing. Arthur would dodge and use his sword to slice the appendages; Merlin would dodge and use his magic to slice the appendages; and Syra would just dodge, hoping someone else would slice the appendages. It felt much longer than it actually was, but finally Merlin felt he could perform a powerful spell without experiencing spontaneous combustion…after he was knocked into a tree by one of the tentacles of course.

"_Wáce_ _ierlic_!" he shouted once he was standing up again…and ignoring his throbbing head and buzzing ears.

(Okay, it wasn't a particularly powerful spell, but with the size of the beast, Merlin had to put more effort into it in order for the spell to actually be of any use against the kraken.)

The sea monster's tentacles flew backward, towards the center of the lake. There was a second when the slimy flesh of the rest of its body could be seen, but then it disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. The silence afterward was almost deafening.

Getting shakily to his feet (when had be fallen on his knees?), Merlin was the first one to break the silence.

"Gwaine?" he called out, slowly walking to his friend. "You alright there, mate?"

Upon closer inspection, Merlin found the he was perfectly fine. That is, he was perfectly fine if you ignored the fact that he wasn't awake and blood matted the back of his hair, which reminded Merlin of the blood and grime on his own body – he might've been healed, but that doesn't mean he was cleaned up, especially after the kraken attack. The buzzing in his ears intensified.

The next thing Merlin knew was that he was lying upright on the ground, a slightly concerned Arthur and a very concerned Syra staring down at him.

"Merlin, are you-?"

The warlock cut him off swiftly. "Fine. My body just caught up with me, that's all." At Arthur's confused expression, he elaborated, "Lost a little too much blood. But I'm fine. Really." He sat up and a wave of vertigo encompassed him, his senses going slightly wonky. "Maybe."

The attention was drawn away from Merlin when Gwaine groaned. The three stared at the knight carefully as he began opening his eyes.

"Merlin? Arthur? What are you-? What hap-" Then he noticed Syra. "Oh, hello there."

Despite the fact that it only made him dizzier, Merlin scowled at his friend's obvious flirtation.

"I think he might have a concussion," he said, still glowering at the smile Gwaine kept sending Syra. "His eyes are glazed over."

"We should get him out of his armor," the girl added, not realizing that the look on Gwaine's face was _that _look and he was sending it to _her_. "Before the kraken comes back."

Merlin went to do it, but Arthur beat him there. The manservant was grateful since he wasn't entirely sure if he actually lifted his arms or not.

"Kraken…?" Gwaine mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing. He gave no protest to Arthur's manhandling –as he would normally have called it– him out of his armor. When the King was halfway finished, Gwaine seemed to have an epiphany. He gasped, sitting up straighter with his suddenly stiff back.

"Denton!" he cried. "He was taken by that…that tentacle thing! We must save him!"

Merlin, Arthur, and Syra jerked each of their heads up to look at one other, all three of them knowing that brave Sir Denton could not have made it if the kraken dragged him underwater.

"It's okay," Syra eventually spoke. She pressed Gwaine's chest, gently pushing him back against the tree. "Just rest, sir knight. We'll stop the kraken; Merlin and I."

Merlin turned his head sharply to look at the girl. "We will what?" (It might've come out a bit harsher than he intended.)

Syra, however, ignored him. "And Arthur will stay up here with you."

This time, Arthur was the one to look at Syra astringently. "I will what?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, good." Gwaine looked at his King. "I guess it's just you and me, eh Princess?"

Arthur was strongly debating on whether or not knocking him out would be a good idea.

"Or would it be 'Queen' now?" Gwaine mused. Before Arthur could even move a muscle, Gwaine's head dipped and he was unconscious once again.

"No!" Merlin reached his arm out and began shaking the knight. "He can't go to sleep! Not with a concussion!"

Unfortunately, nothing roused the slumbering man.

"Maybe sleep would be good for him?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"Sleep would be good for _me_," Merlin muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. "But I'm not sure about Gwaine. Gaius always told me that they have to stay awake."

"Well, there's nothing we can do now," Syra stated. She stood up and brushed off her dress. "Come on, Merlin."

Merlin, however, didn't take her outstretched hand. "You _still _want to go into the lake?"

"It's the only thing we can do."

"Are you serious? There's a _kraken _in there. How does a kraken even _fit_ in that lake?!" The last question was more rhetorical, but Syra answered it anyway.

"It's a baby."

"That was a _baby_?" Arthur echoed before Merlin could get the chance. "It was huge!"

"And it'll just keep getting bigger." Syra turned to look pointedly at Merlin. "And bigger and bigger until it fills the whole lake and starts eating the villagers or people a mile awa-"

"Alright!" Merlin cried, his hands flinging up in the air. "Alright! I get it, okay? I get it." He paused, still not comfortable with what will happen next. "We need to," he swallowed, "We need get into the lake."

Syra grinned down at him. "That's the spirit!"

Merlin continued to grumble some more, words like: '_I hate this'_ and '_This is a terrible idea'_ and '_I do _not_ want a tail'_ could be made out.

"And what do you expect _me _to do?" Arthur asked. "Wait here patiently while you two risk your lives?"

"Yes," Syra said unconcerned.

Arthur went livid. "I'm not going to do that!" he shouted.

"It's not like you're going to be any use to us," Syra answered calmly, not realizing only Merlin spoke to the King like this. "As you plainly saw, swords do nothing against a kraken and unless you've got some magic hidden away in that human body of yours, you will not be of much help under water."

Arthur scowled and opened his mouth, but he never got the chance to say anything.

"Oi!" Merlin wedged his way between his two friends people. "We're wasting time with this. Syra, all Arthur wants to do is help, there's no need to be disrespectful. Now, Arthur," he turned to his friend, wincing at the words that were to come out of his mouth, "Syra's right, you won't be able to help us down there-"

Arthur's fist clenched and he had his '_I am the king_' face on. "_Mer_-"

"_But_, you can help us up here," the warlock quickly stated. "Take Gwaine back to the village and make sure someone looks after him. Then gather the rest of the knights and find Oland. _You _stop him while we stop them," he said, gesturing toward the lake.

There was a silence as Arthur considered Merlin's suggestion (because the King refused to call it anything but a 'suggestion' regardless of whether it was actually more or not).

Finally, after several long moments of quiet, Arthur straightens himself up and snarls, "Fine. But if you two aren't here, safe and in _one piece_, by the time I return, we are going to have many, many problems." He pauses, watching Merlin and Syra with eyes that remind the warlock why the young man in front of him is, and will be, the greatest king to ever live – Arthur's eyes contain the hardened look of a seasoned warrior yet there's the compassion of a loving parent eddying just behind it.

"Sure thing, mum," Merlin mutters, grinning at the fact that he can still poke fun at Arthur like nothing happened; like he didn't admit to not only having magic, but also being the most powerful being to ever walk the earth. They were still Merlin and Arthur: two sides of the same coin. They were still _friends_.

Arthur raises his pointer finger at the mouthy warlock. "Just you wait Merlin. After this is over, we're going to have a _long _talk. About everything."

For a split second, Merlin blanches and he wonders if he thought too soon…but then he sees the smirk crawling its way onto Arthur's face and he knows it's okay. Everything's okay.

"Now," Arthur crosses his arms and widens his stance, "I'm not leaving until I see you with that tail, Merlin."

x~X~x

It was still dark outside when the scream pierced through the village. Despite the terror that was etched into the man's voice, Oland smiled. Well, actually he grumbled about krakens and how they have the worst timing. He had been having the most magnificent dream! Emrys had been lying at his feet –bowing even– and begging for mercy, begging for a pardon. He wouldn't have gotten it, not after all the things he'd done (or, more correctly, _hadn't _done), but the stupid scream tore Oland away from his dream's clutches. Five more minutes. That's all he wants. Just five more minutes.

As the sorcerer turns in his bed, he hears loud footsteps running towards his door. For a moment, fear encompasses him and he is rendered immobile. Have they come for him? How did they even find out? Will they kill first, ask questions later? Who is 'they' anyway?

But no. The footsteps stop right in front of his door however, no one tries to make their way in.

"Did you hear that?" one of the 'someone's outside Oland's door asks.

"Did that…" a different man gulps. "Did that sound like Denton?"

"Gwaine and Denton are the only two people that we know of that are out by the lake," a third man says seriously. "And we're not sure where King Arthur and Merlin are."

"Do you think that was one of them, then?" the second person asks nervously.

Oland represses the urge to chuckle. He knows that scream wasn't from the King or his manservant. They were long-dead by now.

"We need to check it out," the serious man says.

More footsteps echo through the walls.

"Sir Knights!" a woman calls. _Kendra_, Oland remembers. _The innkeeper's wife. "_Sir Knights, please," Kendra begs. "There is chaos outside. Please help us."

There's a pause where Oland assumes the knights turn to their superior. Only a second or two passes before the serious man says, "Of course, ma'am. Men," Oland imagines the man turning to the rest of his comrades now. "You two follow Kendra," a loud thumping confirms that the two appointed men sprint after the innkeeper's wife. "Wayne, Aldrich, go to the back of the village, calm the people down."

"What about you?" a man, either Wayne or Aldrich, asks.

"I will go toward the front, keeping my eyes open for our King."

There's the sound of footsteps as the two men run into the screaming, petrified villagers.

After waiting for several minutes, Oland slowly slips out of his bed. He inches his way towards the lone window, careful to not let anyone see or hear him. As he looks out at the city, he watches in perverse amusement. Nearly the entire magicless village came out upon hearing the scream. They all look so frightened, so pathetic.

Oland leans back thinking, _Oh, this is just great! _

He contemplates going back to bed, snuggling in his blankets to the sound of sheer terror. In the end, though, he decides against it. Putting on his darkest cloak, Oland strides out of the now-empty inn, his shadow-hidden smile growing bigger with each person he passes.

x~X~x

"Don't look!"

"For the thousandth time, _Mer_lin, I'm not going to look!" Arthur groaned. He feels ridiculous, standing behind the tree. "Gwaine's still facing you two," he huffed.

"That's because he's _unconscious_," Merlin retorted. Arthur could see the accompanying eye roll perfectly in his mind. He waited a few more minutes. He heard the sound of splashing.

"Are you done now?"

Something unintelligible was muttered and Arthur held back a laugh knowing the expletives Merlin had probably used. He may not look it, but that man sure has a mouth on him. The first time Arthur heard Merlin curse he'd been so shocked he'd completely forgotten what he was doing – which had been ill-timed since he had been in the process of cleaning an infected and very deep gash on Merlin's leg.

"What was that, Merlin? I didn't hear you," the King mocked.

"Shut up."

"Now, now, Merlin," Arthur chided teasingly. "That's _my _phrase."

He waited a few seconds before striding out from the tree. The first thing he noticed were the scars. _Merlin_ had _scars_. Arthur couldn't even begin to fathom where he got them – and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Oi!" Merlin yelped as he quickly covered himself with his shirt. He glared at the smirking man.

"What?" Arthur asked, trying to ignore the glaring scars. _Later_, he reminded himself. _When all this is over, when we have time._ "Not like I don't know what's under there."

Merlin blushed a deep red while his eyes simultaneously sharpened their gaze. It would have been terrifying, especially after knowing just how powerful the manservant was, if not for three things: (1) this was Merlin, (2) he was stark naked and so obviously embarrassed by it, and (3) this was _Merlin_.

"Are you coming Merlin?" Syra called, splashing happily in the lake.

"Stop that! What if the kraken hears your splashing and comes back?!" Merlin shouted.

The girl laughed and her voice was oddly enchanting. It was smooth and musical and sharp; all at the same time. Arthur forced himself to remember that this was a siren –albeit an _ex_-siren– and she is, and this next thought is certainly going to be a strange one, but she is _Merlin's _girl. (How the hell did _he _manage to score _her_? Arthur might never know.) Also Guinevere is quite lovely and much better suited for him. For Arthur. Why would he want to trade her for anything? (The correct answer is: he'd never want to.)

"Erm."

Arthur looked up to see Merlin, still blushing and avoiding eye contact, gesture toward the lake.

"You wanted to see me with…you know. So, lead the way," he mumbled.

"Merlin. You've dressed and undressed me thousands of times. Are you really so embarrassed about your own body?" Arthur has never felt unconfident in his body. Ever since his birth, the King has heard multiple comments on his features, and all of them were good. Thinking about someone, even if that person is Merlin, being insecure about themselves is such a strange and foreign concept to him. Though, from the warlock's mumbled answer, Arthur guesses he's on the right track.

"Whatever," he sighs while unsuccessfully suppressing a smirk – not like he was trying that hard anyway. Clapping a hand on Merlin bare, bony shoulder, Arthur begins walking toward the lake. After a few seconds, he heard the blatant patter of Merlin's feet. (Honestly, the man's _barefoot _for gods' sake. Can't he _ever _be quiet?)

They reach the lake and Arthur kneels down on the land while Merlin slips in the waters quietly. Well, not exactly "quietly".

"It's freezing!" he shrieks in a very girly way. Merlin might want to argue that point, but Arthur firmly believes that the shriek was quiet girlish. Despite the temperature and the (girly) shriek, Merlin continues lowering himself into the water.

Shrugging, Syra replied, "Feels fine to me."

Before Merlin can make another comment, because Arthur knows he will, the King interrupts. "Can't we get on with it? We don't have eternity to do this, you know."

Teeth chattering (is it honestly _that _cold?), Merlin nods. "Right." He turns to Syra. "So what now?"

"Now, you drink this." She produces a small vial that Arthur really _doesn't_ want to know where it came from.

Merlin takes it gingerly. "Will… Will it hurt?"

At that, Syra looks down. "…Yes. Sorry."

The grin is obviously forced. So is the chuckle. "Well, it's all for the greater good and whatnot, right?" Merlin doesn't wait for an answer. "Okay," he lets loose a breath Arthur didn't realize he had been holding, "Here I go." And Merlin downs the potion in one gulp.

Nothing happens at first. Arthur isn't sure whether or not he was expecting something to happen immediately. He glances at Syra, her siren body just barely visible in the dark waters. Her –silver? grey? no definitely silver– tail occasionally flicking up to the surface. Is that what Merlin's tail will look like? Silver and…slimy-looking? Suddenly, Arthur realizes that Syra's chest is completely bare; only being covered by her long, black hair. He glances away quickly. Just in time to see Merlin gasp and double over.

"Merlin–!"

"It's fine," Syra assured him, but she, too, was watching the man with wide eyes. "His legs are being fused together; it's supposed to hurt."

They watched as Merlin gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes, and tried not to make too much noise despite the fact that he looked as if he were being tortured. Arthur couldn't take it; he dug his nails into his thighs so he wouldn't reach out. The whole forest was silent except for Merlin's pained grunts and gasps.

"You didn't make any noise," he said, his mouth feeling unbelievable dry.

"I'm used to it," she replied quietly.

Another minute passed before Merlin stopped. And by stopped, Arthur means that one second he was withering and choking back tears, and the next, he was absolutely still, blinking away the water from his eyes. There was no blinding light, no booming noise. One moment Merlin was in pain and before Arthur could blink, his friend was completely calm and seemingly pain-free.

He continued blinking. His eyes, which were now pure golden (and isn't that both terrifying and reassuring at the same time?) were staring straight ahead unseeing.

Finally, Arthur couldn't wait any longer. "Merlin?" he asked, reaching his hand out. "You okay?"

The second Arthur's hand made contact with Merlin's skin, the warlock (male siren?) jumped, and a flash of gold showed briefly above the surface. The same gold as his eyes.

"I– Yeah. Yeah," Merlin rubbed his face. "I'm fine. Now."

"You sure?" It's Syra who asks. She raises her hand to touch his face, but he scowls and turns away. She touches him anyway.

"_Yes_," he emphasizes. "Let's just get this over with, okay?"

Syra stares at Merlin for a few more seconds. "Okay," she finally says. "Follow me." And she dives into the waters.

Only Merlin doesn't. Instead, he raises his hand toward Arthur's forehead. His movements are slow and stiff; it reminds Arthur of the ache in his own muscles he always feels after a particularly intense training session.

"There," Merlin said, his voice hoarse. "It won't last long, but it should be enough when you fight Oland."

Before Arthur had the chance to ask what it was that Merlin did to him, the warlock turned and dived into the waters.

The King managed to catch a (slightly longer-than-last-time) glimpse of Merlin's tail, and from what he can see, it's definitely as gold as his eyes. But then Merlin's gone and Arthur's alone on the shore –with an unconscious Gwaine several feet behind him– and all he can think is that he had no idea what Merlin was saying earlier and that he didn't get a proper glimpse at the tail.

How's he supposed to have blackmail material on his friend without actually seeing the object that would provide said blackmail?


End file.
